The Hand Off
by Quibily
Summary: A different take on the Fuinn kiss and Finchel reconciliation. After the heartbreaking events of "Special Education," Rachel and Finn must piece back together their lives, forming new alliances and old, in order to find their way back to each other.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi, beloved readers! I'm really excited to present to you my newest fic! It's a multi-chapter spec-fic surrounding the Super Bowl spoilers. I believe it is a unique take worth sharing. So, I hope you enjoy!

Also-the title is a football term for when the quarterback _hands off_ the ball to someone else. Yeah, shocker, I know But I'm such a dum-dum when it comes to sports that I was proud of myself for discovering the term that was appropriate for Finn and Rachel's situation, that uncertainty as they are thrown out of their comfort zones and must learn to trust that they can still win.

* * *

It was the end of the first day of classes after winter break. It had gone pretty well, Finn thought. He, Sam, and Artie were hitting the gym together to get the new semester off to a new start.

He didn't even wanna think about the first day of Glee tomorrow. He looked at the clock and saw that his buddies were late. He was growing anxious. He needed them for confirmation that his self-imposed solitary hell was over.

Since he broke it off with Rachel, he had to pull through finals, then fake-smile his way through Christmas, and he had not had time to do what he wanted to do: lie for hours without moving, punch things, destroy things on Halo, cry.

Once Christmas was over and his grandma, cousins, and Aunt Sherry and Uncle Tim were out of town again, Finn hardly left his room. He spent a good time hating Rachel. He enumerated the many instances Rachel could have prevented her infidelity. Why didn't she think? Or maybe thinking was the problem. Why wasn't she thinking? Why was she so cold to want to punish him in the worst way possible?

He started to think all those hours they spent lying together talking were a lie. All those things he thought revealed her true self were not her true self. He didn't know _who_ the hell Rachel was. His Rachel.

Sometimes, he thought he should quit Glee club next semester so he didn't have to face her. He wished she would move, would disappear—_something_ had to make this pain go away. Not to mention all the shame.

There were other times, he wanted her to call or visit. He wanted to see her miserable like he was. He wanted her to burst into his room, fall to her knees and cry, to grovel, to somehow make things better. She screwed it up, so she had to make things better. It was her fault. Her fault.

It was only Kurt who was merciless enough to draw Finn out of the misery bubble that was his room. The night the new family was supposed to be together, Kurt texted him to come to the Hummel house after Carole arrived alone and told Burt and Kurt that Finn wasn't feeling up to it. Kurt's blunt text read:

"Listen here, Hudson. You get your mopey butt over here, and I won't tell your mom about your condom stash, _comprendez-vous_?"

Growling, Finn texted back, "Y do u care?"

To which, came the harsh—but meticulously-typed (like Rachel's texts)—response: "She'll never tell you, but your mom's really upset by your behavior. She wants to see us all be a family, and she can't do that if you always cop out on her to feel sorry for yourself."

Finn felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He remembered the wedding. He thought about the grin on his mom's face at the wedding as she had said to him, Burt, and Kurt at the altar; "We're finally becoming a family!"

Groaning, Finn texted, "C u in 10 mins," then jumped up to get dressed and walked over. When he arrived, his mom would fuss over him walking in the cold, but Finn would say it was nothing. The Hummels actually lived pretty close. It was just a ten minute walk for his long legs.

After that night, he and Kurt hung out every night until Kurt left for school the second of January. And it was pretty great hanging with Kurt-except when Kurt was watching America's Next Top Model or Project Runway (Kurt's commentary was an endless stream when he watched those shows.)—that was when Finn would duck out and watch TV with Burt and his mom upstairs.

Kurt and Finn's favorite thing to do was play card games. Turns out Kurt knew a bunch of crazy card games Finn had never heard of. So, Kurt would teach him a new game every day, and they would play for hours.

Except for the weird crush stuff that still haunted him at times, Finn felt like he lucked out in a brother. Dude was smart and one of the funniest people he'd ever met—once he got used to Kurt's dry delivery.

As Finn tied his right shoelace, still waiting for Sam and Artie, he thought that it was kind of nice to play cards with someone who wasn't such a sore loser as Rachel, who would hide her anger at losing by making it seem like she was joking—but they both knew she wasn't. Finn never got why she had to be great at everything.

Though it was pretty cool when she got into the habit of attacking him when he'd tease her about losing. Getting tackled by Rachel was the most hilarious, awkward, yet sexy thing ever.

No, no, no. Finn was not going to do this. He couldn't think about her. He was going to think about his guy time coming up.

Finn's phone buzzed. It was a text message from Artie: "Can't make it. Goin to Brit's. Sorry."

Finn groaned. So, that's where Artie was. Now, where the hell was Sam?

Then he heard the locker room door open, followed by two harsh whispers. Then one of the voices got louder: Sam's.

"Don't worry so much! I'm trying, all right?" Sam said harshly to someone just outside the locker room door as he shut it, stopped, then adjusted his gym bag with a sigh.

Finn knew _that _sound too well. Through the mirror ahead of him, Finn saw Sam was behind him, walking slowly, his head down. Finn turned and threw him a pair of boxing gloves. He watched Sam catch the gloves with a knowing look.

"I know. I know. I'm late," Sam said defensively.

"It's fine, dude. I'm having trouble getting motivated these days, too."

"Where's Artie?" Sam asked.

"With Brittany." Finn answered.

"Dude, what is with him these days? We never let _our_ girls get in the way with guy time, right, man?"

Finn didn't say anything.

"I mean, when you were … You never. You know what I mean. Sorry, man. I kinda forgot. You and Rachel were, like, institution to me."

"Yeah, I know. I thought we were, too," Finn began punching at the bag, telling himself that the scrunched-up face was pure he-man fury of punching and nothing to do with a girl.

But it was hard to dodge thinking about her now. He might as well use the angst.

Rachel used to say that about being angry, telling him it was a great way to "channel loose energy and focus it into something beneficial." She was also the reason he knew what the word institution meant. She always used it in relation to them. "We're becoming a Glee institution, you and me, Finn. Mr. Schue should make a plaque when we graduate," she had said one day when they came together to practice their duet for the competition. He and Rachel talked about so much, every conversation made him think of her.

So, yeah. Rachel—four. Finn—zero. They'd been broken up for a month, and yet she _still _had power over him. Every damn day, she won the battle in his brain.

One thing was for sure: next person he dated, he had to know he could never love her. It just wasn't worth it. At least, not in the messed up world of high school.

"Sorry for being snarky before. I'm just feeling a lot of pressure .. from somewhere I didn't think I'd feel it."

"Quinn—" Finn said between a lower-cut from his left hand to one from his right.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Lemme guess; she's telling you how you're _so close_ to home-free, being the top couple of the school, getting that crown at Homecoming—but it's only looking just out of reach because of something _you're_ doing."

"Damn. That's exactly it."

"Like I said, dude. Been there."

"Oh, yeah.… Is—was Rachel like that?"

"Well, she wanted to control little things, like the time I picked her up for dates and what days we should be color-coordinated (Don't tell anyone that is was on purpose, okay?). She tried to get me to quit the football team for, like, a week. Also what I got to touch and when. But I always figured that was girlfriend territory anyway. She lets me plan what we—_let_ me plan what we did, too. I didn't have as many ideas as her, so, she normally took over, anyway …" he shrugged.

"Sounds pretty cool. Quinn and I used to be like that, but now that the football season's about over, she's says we'll 'only be secondary' because I'm not her damn quarterback boyfriend. I used to think girls just wanted commitment, so I got her a ring. Bam! Commitment. But she still wants more from me. She basically.."

"Wants you to be me … …"

"Yeah.." Sam agreed, looking crestfallen.

"Well, me _plus_, I guess, 'cause she used to get mad at me for wanting to go bowling or waving at certain people because it wasn't cool." Finn stopped, realizing Sam was looking at the ground, frowning a little. "Dude, don't take it personally. I think she just wants to get back on top. I mean, to the top she thought she used to be before she joined Glee. For some reason, to her, that means, being head cheerleader, dating the star quarterback, and being prom queen. That's the only way she'll be happy with herself."

"Don't know why she thinks that. She's perfect now. I don't know if I can take much more of this," Sam muttered, not looking up.

Finn frowned, seeing that this really upset Sam. He placed his hands on Sam's shoulders.

"If it helps any. It's obvious she likes you more than she liked me."

Sam looked up, a prick of a smile at the side of his lips.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

_We only dated because everyone said we should_, Finn thought. He remembered how all the guys would elbow him in the ribcage when Quinn would flit past him and his football buddies with her entourage of Cheerios. A huge grin would bloom on his face because the guys on the team told him that he was bound to get lucky with Quinn soon.

"Those little skirts are toast," Puck liked to say with an arrogant pucker to his lips.

* * *

It was the first day back to Glee. Rachel had arrived first to the empty choir room. She spent a few minutes deliberating which seat she should take—just like she always used to do when she was the single misfit. Should she be in the back where no one could see her, but she could see everyone? Should she sit in the front and not have to look at anyone else, fully focused on Mr. Schue and the task of the day?

She took the front, deciding the back was too cowardly and made it look like she was trying to hide from Finn. She was done with cowering. She thought back on that fateful day she had decided to invite Puck into her room. The last period of the school day had finished, and she stood at the corner of the hallway, watching Finn stare into his locker, deciding which books to take home for the day. She wanted to approach him, but she was too angry at him. Instead, she watched, wondering how he could do this to her. How he could give up his virginity to the resident mattress Santana Lopez. Had he no pride?

She had thought they were a pair of equals, that they were the image of symmetry. He had had one steady girlfriend before her; she had had one steady boyfriend before him. They were co-captains, highly involved in their extracurriculars. She now played some of his games—the Star Wars ones were her favorites. He was a burgeoning fan of musicals the more she shared with him. She baked bread for him, and he made her mix CDs of his favorite songs. They were meeting in the middle. It was perfect.

She was so pleased with herself when she told him she was actually a virgin—that is, after she saw he wasn't mad. She could add this to their long list of their symmetrical qualities.

But it turned out it was all a lie. He wasn't her equal. He was not a virgin. He had the perfect opportunity to spill, but he did not. The _moment_ was also unequal; she confessed; he didn't. It could have been a symmetrical moment.

Instead he sat and waited for Santana to blot up their relationship by doing what he should have done. She was always doing this to Rachel—blotting up her life, slandering it as if the bully even knew Rachel. On the bathroom stalls, she still makes obscene drawings of Rachel—often of a sexual nature. Santana is always limiting her this way, putting her in a corner by saying these caricatures on the wall are all that Rachel is—nothing more, nothing less.

Santana's pigeonholing of Rachel tortured Rachel's middle school years. And when high school came around, Santana used Quinn as her puppet to fuel Rachel's self-hatred. When Quinn and Santana's faux-friendship ended, Rachel saw that it was not the head cheerleader and her lackies who seemed to want to destroy her—just Santana. And Rachel couldn't stop herself from caring about every snarky comment Santana made. Rachel was so good at ignoring negative comments, but Santana really got to her, and Rachel hated that. She hated that she gave Santana such power over her.

Once Santana joined Glee, Rachel felt like she was in competition with this girl—except everything Rachel bettered Santana in Santana reacted with indifference, knowing it would infuriate Rachel, pitting Rachel against herself. She even pitted Finn against her. Like the week she went to the dentist. He hadn't said anything then agreed with Santana's snide comment on her clothes. Rachel vs. Rachel. Finn vs. Rachel. Santana needed to stop.

Or Rachel needed to stop letting Santana do this.

Not only had Santana taken Finn's chance to confess himself, but she had taken his virginity. Taken his virginity-_taken_ a part of him. A part that Rachel could never have—a memory she and Finn could never share.

It drove Rachel crazy to learn that Santana had something over her that Rachel could never take back. There was no competing. That part of Finn could never be Rachel's. Rachel had so wanted that part of Finn.

She had wanted so much to share that with him.

It just wasn't fair. No justice. No balance. They weren't equals. It was all a lie.

Then her skin crawled as Santana pranced past his locker, blowing him a slow and juicy kiss—and was that a smirk that Finn replied with?

Well, of course, it all made sense now. She realized that Finn never stood up for her to Santana because he had a soft spot for Santana. She remembered what Brittany had said once, "You take his v-card; he follows you for life." Finn may never follow Santana, but there was something between them—and nothing could undo that. This new thought drove Rachel stark mad.

Then Puck approached her.

"What do you want? Do you want to take something from me, too?"

But Puck seemed in earnest when he asked if she was okay. It was the first person to sound concerned for her that week. Finn was too busy defending himself or holding his breath, waiting for her to be overdramatic to tray to be any source of solace or comfort (because he was just like the rest of the school, expecting her to always react in the worst possible way—she thought at least _he _thought better of her).

As she gripped Puck's rock-solid arm, a plan formed in her mind.

"I want Finn to know how hurt I am, Noah. I want him to understand."

"Totally. That's why I'm thinking your little skirt and me are the solution here. I represent all the things that are so not cool about Finn, so it would really rub him the wrong way if—"

"If I slept with you."

Puck's eyes popped open.

"You don't mess around!" He said rather loudly as they made their way through the parking lot.

"When I have a plan, Noah, I do not flounder. I think this is the way to-to even the playing field, so to speak. He lost his virginity to that floozy Santana; you're the male floozy of this school. You two have a history of friendship; as well, Santana and I have a history of a similar rivalry. Did you know we used to be best friends?"

Puck did a double take as they stood by his car.

"In elementary school. We used to watch DVDs of our favorite movies—mostly musicals and dance movies—and dance to them. She used to make up choreography, and we'd perform routines for her parents and my dads."

"Well, damn," Puck said, dumbfounded.

"It's perfect symmetry," Rachel said more to herself than to Puck as she settled into his car.

In five minutes, Santana entered the choir room. With hardly a glance at Rachel, Santana strutted in and sat in the upper-right corner. She folded her arms.

"Where's Brittany?" Rachel asked.

"Where have you been, Berry? She wants to be with _Artie_ now," Santana said the name with disgust.

Rachel started at Santana's startlingly earnest response. She didn't throw any insults, just filed her nails and seemed to mourn the absence of her friend. Rachel could relate to that, but she knew if she tried to say another word to this girl, Santana would cut her. Or maybe Rachel would cut her. The anger was faded now, but she still resented Santana for butting in on her and Finn's affairs. It angered her, mostly, because it baffled her.

Why _months_ after it had happened? Why didn't Santana tell her when they started dating or at the beginning of the year, if she wanted to foil their relationship? Part of her wanted to ask but the other part was too afraid to.

Before long, the rest of the Glee club came in. Finn sat in the middle row which Rachel took as a good sign. He was not consciously choosing to sit as far away from her as possible, at least. Rachel started when she saw Mercedes plop beside her, wiggling her fingers in a sweet wave and smiling. Rachel was about to smile back, but her gaze shot up when Mr. Schue called—very loudly—for rehearsal to begin.

Mr. Schue spoke of new beginnings, or "a fresh start," as Rachel noticed seemed to be his favorite phrase. He wanted everyone to seize the new year and better themselves by singing about goals and the future and optimism.

Rachel rested her chin on her fist, which rested on her crossed-over knee. She gave a deep sigh that blew her hair up. This was going to be a tough assignment.

She heard her sigh echoed from the seat she knew Santana was at. She then heard a giggle from Brittany, who was sitting to Rachel's left, whispering something to Artie. She felt a hot gaze on her. She turned to see that it was Santana, glaring.

But she wasn't glaring at her.

She was glaring at Brittany with Artie.

And then, Rachel knew. Santana was lonely. Brittany and Artie started dating the week before Santana outted Finn.

_"You're on my list, dwarf."_

Could it be that Santana feels jealousy?

Anything Mr. Schue said for the remainder of class was up and over her head. Her mind was a maelstrom of ideas, memories, and sympathy.

When class ended, Santana was first to flounce out of class, very clearly upset. Her neck doing that ghetto roll with every jerky attitude-step she took. Rachel actually found it endearing. Then she practically barreled out of the classroom after the Cheerio.

Clearly, she was going insane, approaching the girl who had been single-handedly high-jacking and crashing her life since middle school. She reached out her hand to Santana's shoulder once they had arrived at her locker.

As Santana opened her locker, Rachel said: "You're lonely, aren't you? Since Brittany started dating Artie?" Rachel breathed.

"Oh, no, no, fringe girl. I think you have me confused with you. I have lots of friends," Santana replied coolly without looking at Rachel.

"You have an entourage, and almost the whole school is afraid of you. That's not friends."

"Shouldn't you be hating me right now instead of drowning me in this pointless mush?"

"I don't hate you, Santana. I understand, now," Rachel said, quietly and firmly.

"Sorry?" Santana said, quietly, looking at Rachel for the first time. It was clear she was taken aback. Rachel saw her walls come down—if only for a second.

"I understand why you were preying on Finn and chose to tell me about you and Finn months later. You weren't plotting to destroy my life so much as you were just … lonely. You lost more than a best friend, didn't you? Weren't you and Brittany … intimate? What happened?"

"No one likes a dyke," Santana said, matter-of-factly, a tinge of sadness in her eyes.

"But if you like her, and she likes you …"

"This is high school in the middle of Ohio, weepy. Guys may whoop and holler when two girls are kissing, but at the end of the day, they don't wanna see two girls walking down the hallway, hand-in-hand, talking about making lady-babies."

"You mean, you rejected Brittany because of your reputation? And now you have nothing. Not even Finn. He wants nothing to do with you, now—or me."

"That's right," Santana said, smilingly while crossing her arms. Her mask was back on. " Look, you're gonna have to thank me for knocking that pedestal from under you later. I have Cheerios practice. Later, schnoz."

Rachel's lips tugged into a meek smile as she watched the retreating figure. Santana's exit almost looked desperate. That was only further confirmation that Rachel was right: Santana was lonely.

Santana Lopez was human.

And she was vulnerable, just like the rest of them. Just like Rachel. And, in that quietly blissful moment, Rachel knew Santana would never have such power over her ever again.

Maybe this _was_ the time for a fresh start like Mr. Schue had said.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**_ I forgot to mention last chapter, but I would like to send copious thanks to my JILLY (shipper-swabbie) for reading over this fic and helping me get out the kinks. I heart you, Boo!

Now, enjoy this story, dammit!

* * *

The Friday of their first week back to school, Rachel walked into Glee and started when she saw Mercedes staring at her and patting the step beside her. Rachel looked behind her, but there was no one. She turned back around and heard Mercedes say, "Yes, _you,_ polka-dots!" with a roll of her eyes then a smile.

Rachel felt immediately on her guard. She walked to Mercedes, who was sitting with Quinn, and swept her skirt in order to primly sit across from the now-frowning girl.

Rachel _knew _this would be a bad idea.

"What is it with you, Rachel? You, me, and Kurt hung out all day at the mall early on during Christmas vacation—and then I never hear from you again. Why didn't you call? We coulda hung out. And now that we're at school, you act like we're practically strangers."

"I thought you hated me and only tolerated me that day for Kurt's sake," Rachel said, eyes downcast.

"Where the hell you get that idea? I thought we had a good time."

"I credited your good mood to the fact that you were reunited with your best friend."

"Did it ever occur to you that I actually wanna be friends with you, too?"

Rachel's eyes bulged, and she heard Quinn scoff-laugh.

"When have you ever acted like you wanted to do things with me?" Rachel asked, defensively.

"Look, I know I say some things, but it's 'cause you act like _this_, like you're some kinda victim. I thought you hated me for a while because you came off so cold. Then I realized it's because you have this mindset that no one wants anything to do with you, so you don't want anything to do with us. _That's_ what annoys the hell outta me. You gotta grow yourself a spine! Damn!"

Rachel meekly looked up, awed at this new information. She had never thought about it. She had always assumed … Forever the outcast. The freak. So, why take the risk just to get hurt?

Had this mentality really been the only obstacle between loneliness and friendship?

"Maybe if she stopped using her libido in her pursuit of people to hang out with … " Quinn muttered. "I've seen her with Puck."

As she finished her sentence, Quinn's eyes darted to Rachel. Rachel knew that Last Year Rachel would have huffed at the statement and shut up—but New Year Rachel laughed.

"I guess you're right."

The truth was: she was only part right. She was doing a duet with Puck; there were no romantic aspirations in their time together. But, aside from the 'Puckleberry' duet, Rachel had to admit that she was either alone or with a boy romantically most of the time. She had always accepted that that was just the way that it was.

She looked to Santana, who sat with Puck, looking bored. Just like Rachel, Santana flitted from boy to boy, and her best friend had been someone she was romantically involved with. Well, Santana was probably more _sexually_ involved than romantically involved with Brittany, but either way, Rachel realized that she and Santana shared that in common as well. Then they both lost the most special person in their life and embraced loneliness.

It was then that Rachel decided that she wouldn't let her mentality shut her off from having friends.

Just like that song she had since forgotten: _When you're smiling, when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you._

"Yeah, Rachel," Amber said with laughing eyes. "No more pissy attitude, okay? You dated two of the hottest guys in school and … and.."

"A Future Leading Male on Broadway," Rachel supplied.

"I was gonna say Future Rich Douche, but that's fine, too …"

Then the two girls started giggling. Quinn even cracked a smile.

"Rachel, you've had the same kinda dating life as Quinn's had. Three boys. You're lucky! I mean, I haven't even had my first kiss."

"Really?" Rachel asked, genuinely surprised. Mercedes was so cool and confident. How was it she hadn't been kissed yet?

"Oh, it's not that big of a deal, 'Cedes. First kisses are generally terrible," Quinn rolled her eyes, but then her face softened as she patted Mercedes's shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess first kisses probably aren't all that," Mercedes conceded.

"They really aren't. My first kiss was in eight grade. You remember Mark Ramos?" Quinn asked.

"Ooh, cutie with the jet black hair and dimples?" Mercedes cooed.

"That's the one. Well, the night before he moved away, he took a walk with me, stopped, and started slowly leaning in on me. It was the most awkward thing ever. He, like, snorted to clean his nose or something _while_ we were kissing. And then his little brother popped out of the bushes and slapped at the backs of my knees till I fell forward, and our foreheads collided!" Quinn told her story with difficulty, trying not to laugh the whole time as Mercedes barked with laughter and Rachel snickered.

When the laughter subsided, Rachel said, firmly: "My first kiss was perfect, actually."

"Really?" Mercedes said, eyebrow arched.

"It was last year. In the auditorium. After rehearsing for a while, this was the day after the Celibacy Club Fiasco, Finn lay me down and kissed me gently. His—"

"Wait a minute, you only went to one Celibacy Club meeting, and that's when _I _was dating Finn!'

"You didn't know? Oh, I'm sorry. I figured he-he told you."

"Well, he didn't," Quinn said curtly. "I knew it! I just knew it! Whatever happened to 'I don't have to steal your man?' 'I have plenty of suitors of my own?'"

"Excuse me. Weren't you the one who slept with his best friend, got pregnant by him, then tried to steal Finn's childhood by telling him the baby was his?"

Quinn glared. Under the fierce gaze, Rachel was reduced to sputtering and feeling small as Quinn slowly stood up, never resting from looking down at Rachel. Then Quinn turned on her heel and went to sit at her seat.

Rachel sighed. It may not have been her imagination that Quinn didn't want to be friends.

"Don't let it get you down, Rachel. She'll get over it," Mercedes dismissed. Then she smiled, excitedly. "Girl, tell me more about this 'perfect first kiss.'"

With that, the girls were giggling again—for Rachel spared _no_ details (her eyes darting from Mercedes to the door to make sure Finn hadn't arrived yet). She remembered how he had blushed, the red traveling all the way up his ears, when he told her what _really _caused him to leave the auditorium. She remembered how happy and relieved she was by his story. This happy memory of Finn, however, tinged her giddy mood with Mercedes. She missed him—his kisses, his smell, his whisper tickling her ear. All now out of her reach.

Fortunately, Mr. Schue's entrance broke her and Mercedes apart before Rachel's mind journeyed deeper into the darkness and farther from her attention to her new friend. Now seated, she spaced out Mr. Schue, remembering what happened when she and Puck got to her house that last week she and Finn were together.

Rachel remembered being surprised at Puck's chivalrous behavior. He had opened the doors for her, took off her coat, and gestured for her to go up the stairs first, saying "Ladies first," (though, she shouldn't have been surprised at that, considering the view he got from behind her). When they had reached her bedroom, Rachel pulled him onto the bed before she could think too much and talk herself out of her plan.

When she had noticed how gingerly he was kissing her, she made a concentrated effort to kiss harder. He responded a little more eagerly—until she nibbled his lower lip.

He shot up, hand on his lip.

"What the hell? You bit me!"

"Sorry. Finn likes it, so I guess I've gotten into the habit."

"Hudson kink. Shoulda figured."

Rachel didn't like how he said that. Before she could ask whatever on earth that was supposed to mean, they were kissing again. This time, Puck was kissing almost fiercely. Rachel struggled to match his zeal.

She started thinking that maybe they shouldn't have kissed. Maybe they should have gone straight to business, so to speak—but Rachel wasn't sure she could do it without at least the pretense of romance.

But before her plot for revenge against a negligent boyfriend could develop further, Puck pulled back.

She asked in a low voice if she'd bit him again. Then he did the unthinkable: he called off the tryst. _He_, Noah Puckerman, _resident manwhore._ He cited that he didn't want to do this to Finn "again," and Rachel flinched.

Puck had taken the higher ground. He had said he couldn't do this to Finn "again," as if she were like Quinn, betraying her boyfriend by disregarding her feelings for him and sleeping with Puck.

But she wasn't like Quinn. Finn was the _only_ thing on her mind while she was with Puck. She was trying to make Finn understand; she wasn't disregarding her feelings for Finn like Quinn.

But, she _was_ disregarding _his_ feelings for her_._

Not having moved from her bed since Puck had left, she panicked as her trail of thought went to this dark place. Oh, God. It couldn't be. She couldn't be just as bad as Quinn.

Her phone made a racket as it vibrated on her dresser. She went to it. The outer screen said Finn's name. It was a text message. She flipped open the phone and read his text message, which said:

"Where r u? Did u take the bus?"

Rachel's stomach churned with guilt. How long had he been at school, looking for her? Though mad at him, she had agreed to keep to their normal schedule of taking turns driving one another home from school that week. She had completely forgotten.

She texted back a simple "Yes," turned off and set down her bedazzled phone, and returned to her bed, legs folded beneath her bottom and hugging her shaggy purple pillow.

Fending off the guilt, she knew straightaway that she would tell Finn herself. She thought too much of him to keep something from him. She wouldn't be like Quinn—in that respect, at least. She decided she would tell him when they were talking again.

The Monday after Sectionals, she and Finn slowly walked down the stairs in the hallway of McKinley together after school. They hadn't said a word yet; both had spotted one another in the hallway; she had grinned, and he grinned back; and they walked together.

It wasn't long before Rachel felt sick to her stomach as she prattled about the Glee club instead of what she knew she needed to tell him.

But she did it. She told him. In fact, she told him the same day she had devised for Finn to find out about her tryst with Puck—after Sectionals, just to be safe that their angst didn't disrupt their competitive edge anymore than it already had.

She was proud of herself. She felt dizzy and struggled to keep her feet planted on the ground as she told Finn about her plan—and how Puck had bailed. She honestly thought he would appreciate her honesty—and that he didn't find out from someone else. That she respected him enough to tell him even though, but for principle's sake, it didn't need to be told. She was under none but personal pressure to tell him.

She was wrong. She was so wrong. His voice was venomous and stung her. He didn't seem to care about her honesty. She knew what he was thinking—_just as bad as Quinn._

She wasn't. She was not Quinn. Quinn never planned on telling him the truth even though there was pressure from all sides to do so. Couldn't he see that?

_Truth is, I didn't have a right to tell off Quinn when I'm just as bad_, she thought as she stole a glance at Finn. She was startled to find Finn meeting her gaze. Even more startled when he didn't look away. His face was softer than she'd ever seen it when he looked at her. Then Rachel heard Quinn say her name, and she snapped her head to face the Cheerio.

"Mr. Schue. I have an idea for Rachel's solo for Regionals."

"I love the enthusiasm, Quinn, but it's a little early, don't you think?" Mr. Schue said with his signature cheesy smile he flashed when he was nervous or confused.

Rachel flashed a cheesy smile, too—but she wasn't nervous or confused. Maybe Quinn wanted to be friends, too, after all!

"I think she should sing "I Can't Say No," from Oklahoma. Perfectly suits her, considering she can't seem to reject any advances, nor keep from kissing other girls' boyfriends."

"What the hell?" Finn said.

"She told me you two kissed while we were dating last year," Quinn said lowly.

Rachel shot out of her seat.

"First, Santana spills to the whole club Finn's sexual endeavors, then my _mistakes_ with Puck, now this! Must this club know _every _detail of Finn's and my personal life?" She pouted.

"Calm your tits, both of ya. It was over a year ago," Puck groaned.

"Yeah, guys. I think we should try to take the high road over gossip and public humiliation," Mr. Schuester entreated.

"Thank you," Rachel said in an exasperated voice, her hands flaring in an exaggerated gesture of graciousness as she plopped down to her seat again. She sighed, echoing Quinn's own frustrated sigh.

* * *

Finn rolled his eyes as he saw Quinn huffily walk away from Sam after another one of their many arguments this week. Once Glee let out, they had been arguing about something stupid like how Sam wanted to do a duet, and Quinn thought he should spend more of his time making appearances at parties. After the outburst between Quinn and Rachel in Glee today, Finn was back in a dark mood. He decided it was time to stick up for his friend.

As Quinn passed him, he stopped her.

"Hey. Sam really likes you. You should stop trying to mold him into your perfect Homecoming King."

"Oh, please. Don't give me that. He wants it, too."

"Maybe, but it still hurts his feelings. He's told me about it."

"If I don't lighten up, will _he_ join the Rachel Berry Fan Club, too?" Quinn asked, voice rife with sarcasm.

"Quinn, what you did in Glee today, that was really pointless. All you did was embarrass her—and yourself."

"And _you_. I considered the sacrifice worth it."

"Fine. If you get off on that kinda stuff, feel free to announce to the Glee club tomorrow that Rachel and I actually kissed _twice_ while you and me were dating. That time was because I took her out on a _date._" Then Finn stopped himself, shook his head and groaned.

"You know what?" he continued, unable to stop himself, "You don't even have a right to be mad after what you did to _me_!"

Quinn sighed and looked down. He saw her fingers fiddle with her books—a common nervous habit Finn remembered from when they were dating.

"I know," Quinn said in a small voice. "And I wish I'd had the courage to tell you myself straight away."

Finn gulped. He wasn't really angry. At least, not with her.

"It just made me so angry when Rachel told me how you'd kissed her while we were dating. It was yet another thing to add to my long list of things that made me such a failure last year. Making this year the best it could be is the only way I'll be able to live with myself. And, yes, that involves Sam. I just have to do this, Finn. I may sound selfish, but I-I'm pretty sure I'll go crazy if I graduate without being on top."

"I understand what you're doing, but I don't think it's necessary."

"Finn, if you could get rid of the tormenting you get from Azimio and Karofsky, silence the whispers behind your back—wouldn't you do it?"

Finn paused, startled. He thought back on the first day back to school this semester, how shocked he'd been when Azimio, Karofsky, and two sophomores from the football team had heckled him. "Heard you broke it off with Rachy-Beard. Now that your lover's gone to another school, it's safe to date him. Am I right?"

Karofsky had joined in, saying, "Yeah, smart girl got the hint when he sang a love song to his fairy step-brother! Hey—lover boy's got his own room to himself at his fancy private school, doesn't he?" A barrage of laughter followed Finn as he retreated to his homeroom.

He thought it might get better when he and Rachel broke up. Not like those jerks would have ever made a difference whether he was gonna date a girl he wanted or anything, but now that he wasn't dating the least popular girl in school, he thought the heckling would lighten up. But it only seemed to get worse; new younger blood was joining the douche parade.

Quinn was making the right approach with Sam. Though Sam was a year younger than she was, he was considered one of the best looking guys in school, and he was admired for being one of the best football players. Allying herself with him had advantages.

There is power in numbers. When he was with Quinn, no guy dared to do anything more than lightly teased him. When he joined Glee, sure, they muttered "deep throat" or "homo explosion" (Thanks, Puck.) behind his back, but they certainly didn't group against him or prey on him in the hallways like they were doing now. He enjoyed the power his alliance with Quinn gave him.

But, as long as she stayed with Quinn, she wasn't going to reach her goal.

"Hate to break it, though, Quinn, but it doesn't really matter because we only have one more game next weekend. I'm still quarterback, and I'll finish that game as quarterback. Sam doesn't have a chance this year, so you gotta stop asking him to do the impossible," Finn said gently as he gingerly gripped his hand on her shoulder.

For a moment, the two merely stared, almost like they were both studying each other, realizing that had been the first time they had really looked at one another since Babygate. They studied one another, noting how they'd changed… how they hadn't.

Then, Quinn shrugged off his hand and went to her locker.

As he slowly zipped his book bag shut, Finn thought about his time with Quinn last year. She wasn't a bad person. He didn't hate her. They merely brought the worst out of one another when they were dating. But maybe they could work on being friends? Heal that wound for good?

After all, he cheated on her, too. He was a cheater. Just like Rachel.

His mind whirled at this disturbing epiphany.

He wasn't like Rachel, though. He wasn't mean about it. Rachel did it to punish him. Like he was some pet who chewed on the furniture. He didn't mean to hurt Quinn.

But he _was _a cheater.

He slammed his locker shut and headed to the truck to drive home. Since the start of the semester that Monday, Finn had been driving Burt's truck to and from school. During one of his visits to the Hummel house over break, Burt had approached him, saying his work was next door, so he didn't have regular use of his car, and would Finn like to use it for school? Being told he could drive himself to school every day made Finn the most stoked he'd felt over the whole break.

It beat having to take the bus some days because his mom worked and needed the car. While he was dating Rachel, he never had to take the bus, because she drove him. After breaking up with Rachel, as if just to add to his misery, he had to take the bus seven times during the last three weeks of school.

He absolutely hated it. First off, he had to crouch or duck because he was too tall to get into the door and stand in the bus. The floor was sticky and nasty. And once Azimio and Karofsky got the news, they mercilessly made fun of him for it.

He got into the truck and rested his head on the wheel. He should not feel guilty for something he did over a year ago. He may have cheated in the past, but he never cheated on _Rachel_. He never would have. _Never._

Then, just as he raised his head, he saw her. Rachel was passing, all bundled up in her pink, fluffy coat for really cold days. In her hair was a pink bow that matched the color of the coat perfectly. God, why did she have to be so damn cute?

He was about to look away when he realized she was walking to Puck, who was standing next to her car, his guitar propped on the ground and against his knee. Finn couldn't hear, but he could tell she was chastising him, but then she smiled a little at something Puck responded with.

And then the car unlocked with her keychain remote, Puck _got into her car,_ and Rachel actually drove them away.

"What the hell?" Finn's voice felt strangled out of him. He started trembling out of anger and cold. He turned on the car and its heating system, but his trembling wouldn't stop. And he sat there, not having a damn clue what to think of this. Was she…? Were they…?

He wanted to kick something. He wanted to cry.

He at least thought he understood that Rachel didn't love or even much _like _Puck—that she got with him because he was convenient, being a total manwhore and all and because of his and Finn's history. But inviting him into her car? What if they were going to her house to finish the job she intended two months ago? Maybe they'd been keeping quiet about their relationship the whole time.

The rest of the week after Finn broke it off with Rachel, she had trailed behind him when Glee let out, telling him that she was sorry, that she wasn't thinking, that she didn't have any feelings for Puck. "None whatsoever," Rachel had said emphatically.

_None whatsoever my ass_, Finn thought, bitterly.

God. The hurt. Not again. Not. Again.

So, he did what he always did when he was feeling down on himself; he called his mom.

"Hey, Mom. I know you're at work and stuff, but I was wondering if we could talk."


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel started the second week of school back in a relatively good mood. Once she entered the school, Rachel made a bee-line to Mercedes at her locker and began chatting. The conversation started out awkward, both unsure what to talk about, but they plowed through till their conversation grew a little more lively. Both girls were most animated when Rachel shared with Mercedes some of the jokes and observations that occurred in Rachel and Kurt's chats on Facebook over the weekend.

She was talking about a friend she had (virtually) had to herself over the weekend with another friend she had all to herself in the hallway of school! Rachel's life was looking almost perfect.

Almost.

And she had Kurt to thank for opening the floodgate with Mercedes, she was sure. Seeing the Kurt was fond of her made Mercedes re-think her opinion of Rachel.

As she headed to her first class, Rachel smiled, remembering the night she felt that she and Kurt were actually hitting it off. It was the 23rd of December, and she and Kurt had been texting back-and-forth. He had opened the conversation by proudly announcing that he had successfully wrapped all the presents he bought on his, Mercedes's, and Rachel's shopping trip a few days prior. Growing impatient with Kurt's jovial tone because she was feeling moody, she asked him if he had hated her now that he surely must know what she did to Finn.

Her phone had been silent for a while. She began to hate herself for doing that. Maybe he didn't know and was _now_ finding out from Finn, who surely would phrase it in a way to make Kurt hate her, and then her friendship would die before it had even begun!

Then, it came. Her phone's outer screen had flashed Kurt's name and buzzed. She fumbled with the phone before flipping it open.

His text had said: "Look, I know Finn's my new brother, and it's really quite disgusting the bitter mood you've put him in. But he's okay with my being friends with you, and I don't see infidelity as a threat to our friendship in the future, do you?"

Rachel was so happy she hugged her phone. Then she jumped when her phone vibrated on her chest. It was another text from Kurt:

"What are you doing tonight? What do you say I come over and we watch Into the Woods and make some popcorn? It's worth being your friend to use you for that movie, at least. ;) I can't believe you have a DVD of the stage version with Bernadette Peters! I haven't been able to find it anywhere."

That had been the moment Rachel knew everything was going to be all right.

That Friday morning passed quickly, as school days normally do for Rachel. She was in a relatively good mood all morning. She wasn't even annoyed at Santana's smugness as English teacher Mrs. McCourt announced "Miss Lopez's profound essay" had won a state essay contest. It normally bothered Rachel because it was a waste, really, that someone so brilliant was so mean and calculating. She never had to study or really try, and she got A's and all the praise in class. But that day, however, she clapped for Miss Lopez with the rest of the class.

As Rachel headed to lunch, she passed Finn. She gave him her well-rehearsed nod with a pseudo-smile she had been giving him since school started again, and then she trotted onward.

To Rachel's surprise, Finn started walking alongside her. She looked up to him, wide-eyed. For a few steps, he looked ahead. Then he turned to her. His face was very serious.

"Sorry about the hard time Quinn gave you last week in Glee. That wasn't cool," Finn said in a gruff voice. He didn't look sorry; he looked like he had something else on his mind.

Then he stopped. They were in front of his class room (he had a later lunch hour). He paused.

"It's fine, Finn, but thank you," Rachel said, shocked at how calm she sounded.

What was on his mind? What did he want?

* * *

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but when the school day finished, Rachel's mind went back to Finn and his dark brow, questioning gaze. To fight off the urge to go pull Finn out of football practice to demand he say or ask what he was going to that morning. Rachel decided to quiet her mind by practicing in the ballet studio.

After changing into her leotards, Rachel methodically put each of her bags in their places in her cubby then went to the center of the floor to stretch. As she stretched, she began to day dream.

Rachel daydreamed a lot lately. Her fantasies were what kept her company the last three weeks before school let out for winter break.

They were at their worse in English class when they watched two movies of literature they had recently finished. When the class watched _Hamlet_, she thought about the implications of death a lot. She fantasized about such a tragedy happening in Glee club. Someone dies, and Finn realizes that life is too short to go another minute without love. Or perhaps Finn realizes too late, as his sees his dead love below him. In her visions, he is throwing himself into her grave, like Hamlet in Ophelia's grave, crying to all the world that he loved her more than any other man.

These funeral fantasies flooded over to the class's viewing of _The Scarlet Letter _in which she saw Finn, like the Reverend Dimmsdale in _The Scarlet Letter,_ rip his shirt off to reveal an R he had scratched on his chest every night in a covert expression of his passion for Rachel—all too late to express as he stood over Rachel's still body.

The current daydream she elicited as she stretched in the studio was her newest favorite, topping any funeral fantasy:

In her imaginings, they would run into one another in the dimly-lit auditorium, surrendering to their passions and making love right there on the stage. And post-coital Finn, his freckles in full, beautiful bloom, would say, "This is where we first kissed. Where I first realized I couldn't fight my feelings for you anymore—and that I'd never be able to." At this point, she would start humming "My Man," from _Funny Girl._ Then a solitary tear would cascade down Finn's cheek, having been moved by her musical undulations—at which point, she and Finn would make love at least two times more.

Fully engrossed in her sensual fantasy, now, she slowly lifted her leg and straightened it out until her pointed toe was as high in the air as she could hold it. She maintained her leg as steady as possible as her leg ponderously lowered to the highest support bar in the studio.

She almost crashed her crotch into the bar when she heard a booming voice:

"Excuse me, miss,"

Rachel gripped the bar and straightened herself. She looked to the doorway to see football coach Shannon Beiste standing, wide-eyed in the doorway of the ballet studio.

"Pardon me. I didn't mean to make you jump higher than a grasshopper in mating season, but I have something I'd like to talk to you about," Beiste said as she approached Rachel.

Rachel nodded slowly, extremely confused as to what the football coach had to say to _her_, the small Glee girl in the ballet slippers.

"Can you kick a football?" the coach asked.

"I don't know. I've never tried," she said, eyes fluttering

"I lost my kicker, see. We have a game coming up this Saturday—_the big game_—the regional championship—and I can't play without a kicker," Coach Beiste said in a quiet, urgent voice, using her arms for emphasis.

"Play in a football game? This Saturday? That's in four days! I can't!" Rachel's voice grew spastic and loud as she imagined herself at the bottom of a pile of a dozen football players more than twice her size. She'd be killed.

"You don't have to play the plays. I can work the boys through new plays that won't involve you doing more than kicking," Coach Beiste spoke in a soothing tone, and Rachel was comforted.

"Why me?" she asked.

"I saw what you were doing in the studio, here, and from the looks of it, your legs are mighty strong. And, on account of being a girl and a ballerina, you can lift those legs up further than any boy kicker I could find. So, what do you say? Practice is almost done. Can you come and show me what you've got?" Coach Beiste's electric blue eyes were full of excitement, Rachel couldn't help but get a little excited herself.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make a few cracks in the glass ceiling," Rachel said, her signature grin blooming. This woman's enthusiasm was so contagious! Rachel decided she needed to learn Coach Beiste's secret.

"Your eyes are breathtakingly blue. L0vely," Rachel added and giggled as the saw the sweetest grin inch across the coach's face.

Finn's head wasn't in the game today. His thoughts continually drifted. He watched Sam a lot, watched the perpetual cross look on his face.

Sam had dumped Quinn over the weekend at a party. Finn hadn't been there, but he heard from Mike that it had been awful. Quinn cried, and Sam looked near to tears himself. She had done something at that party to push Sam too far. Mike had been there and told Finn about it. Mike was totally confused about it all, but Finn knew; he knew that, since school had started back up, Sam and Quinn's fights had gotten worse instead of better, and Sam looked damaged after every fight. It was only a matter of time before Sam couldn't take the hurt of not being enough for Quinn any longer.

On the plus side, some people absolutely loved the public humiliation brought about by Sam in dumping her in a party that involved half the school. He got a few high-fives by guys who thought it was "Awesome," and a few girls were delighted by the performance as well. Of course, Finn saw, Sam was too miserable to notice all the attention.

He and Sam hadn't had much of a chance to talk, but he told himself he'd make sure to at least call his buddy tonight. As quarterback, he often stayed behind after the rest of the players left. It was especially likely today because they had lost their kicker, Jim Kundert, to an injury and the regional championship game was coming this weekend.

He wondered where the hell Coach Beiste was. This was a crucial week; shouldn't she be here?

Then he saw the tall woman in the distance, being led by a figure that was completely drawfed by the football coach's large frame.

When they got closer, he could see, and Finn's helmet and jaw dropped to the ground. Rachel was with Beiste, and she was in her fluffy pink coat and had ballet slippers on her feet. She waved meekly as Coach Beiste yelled for everybody to clear the field so they could see her kick

"Oh, hell, no," Finn heard Azimio shout.

"A chick?" Karofsky protested, "You're gonna make a _chick_ our new kicker?"

"Didn't say a thing about that, Karofsky. Just said we're gonna watch and see how she kicks," Beiste said firmly, not bothering to look at Karofsky as she guided Rachel to the center of the field.

"I, for one, Coach, have to say that I admire the innovation," Artie announced, then he muttered to Finn, "Plus, it might get the guys off my back for being the player that slows everyone down, right?"

"Care to brown-nose yourself off of my field?" Beiste asked Artie. Artie put his arms out in mock defeat, laughing lightly. Finn knew that Artie expected him to laugh with him, but all Finn could do was stare and slowly put one leg in front of the other to get off of the field with the rest of the team. Soon, Artie was going faster than his tall friend and left him behind.

Once Finn came to his senses, he dashed after the two women in the middle of the field.

"Coach! You can't do this! Even the lightest players would crush her!" Finn was pretty sure he felt like passing out, he was breathing so hard.

Had Beiste gone crazy, or was Rachel totally suicidal?

Beiste whipped her head around to face Finn: "That's why it'll be up to _you _to get the team to stay to our new plays which'll keep her _out_ of the game 'cept for kicking. As quarterback, you gotta look out for everyone, got it?"

"You haven't even seen her kick yet!"

"Well, be a gent and get the ball for her, Hudson, and we'll see," Beiste commanded her quarterback.

Finn nodded dumbly. He couldn't say anything because he was clenching his jaw, furious with Rachel and Beiste for doing this to him.

When he ran back across the field, he saw that Rachel had stationed herself on the opposite side of the field at the lowest stand to stretch, her right leg propped onto the bar and back facing Finn. As she reached her arms to her toes, her coat rode up and revealed her butt, which was flexing with her stretch, every trembling crevice apparent because her whole leotard was a light skin color. Beiste headed to the center of the field, blowing her whistle.

Rachel finished stretching and slowly, gracefully, brought her leg down, allowing every flex of her thigh to succeed one another, one at a time. Then she turned to look at him. Finn snapped his mouth shut and practically threw himself into a run to the center of the field.

When Rachel caught up, Finn crouched down, held the ball up, and nodded to the coach. Then he heard Beiste say, "Go ahead, Berry."

Finn was shocked when, almost in the same instant Beiste gave the all-clear, Rachel's slipper-clad foot drove into the ball with a solid _thump_. He watched in amazement as the ball bounced against the top of the goal post then fell to the ground within the goal zone. A few of the guys on the team whooped encouragingly. A few groaned.

"Lookit that! And not even wearin' tennis shoes!" Beiste said in a quiet, but pleased, voice. "Welcome to the football team. Now, just for good measure, you and Hudson do that a few more times. I'll be in my office, if you need me."

Then she patted Rachel on the back, whirled around and announced to everyone else that practice would be cut short. Happy to be let out early, the guys eagerly headed to the showers, whooping along the way.

Finn took a few steps to follow the coach, wanting to protest some more, but then he stopped with a huff. He watched as Beiste left the two of them, heading to her office to form the new plays, no doubt. Without looking at Rachel or talking, he ran across the field, picked up a second football and set up the original ball for her.

"We're using two balls so you kick both at once. Then we're both gonna run out to get the ball and bring it back. Run the whole time; don't walk. We have to know if you can kick when you're weak from nerves or from running around," Finn instructed.

"Why do you have to run to get a ball?" Rachel asked.

"Because whoever will be holding the ball for you will probably be nervous or tired, too," Finn answered shrewdly. "And it just seems douchy if I had you run around while I watched."

"You don't need to do that," Rachel said, sounding a little irritated. "You shouldn't have to tire yourself at my expense—I mean, after …."

Finn snapped at her; "Did it ever occur to you that this isn't about you and me?" _Or about how you're a hypocrite, _he thought as his head drooped.

_Or about how I 'accidentally' knocked Puck over during laps today…_

He immediately felt guilty about his outburst when he looked up and saw Rachel flinch at his tone and amended, "Look. You heard Beiste. I take care of my teammates. I stick out my neck for _all_ the players. That's what leaders do, remember?"

Rachel's face was touched by a smile.

"I remember," she said, nodding firmly.

The first time she kicked, she missed. She kicked it again, and she made the goal. They both ran out to each get a ball—Finn insisting on getting the ball that landed the farthest. Next time, she missed twice in a row. Then she kicked two more times, and both made it across the goal. For good measure, she kicked it two more times after that, and both were goals. Finn watched Rachel grinning widely as she ran back, hugging the ball

When she stopped in front of him, Finn saw that her eyes had a beautiful dewy glow, getting watery because of the strong wind that was evolving into merciless blasting. They were both panting. Rachel's mouth opened and closed as if she had something to say but couldn't find the courage.

"How did you _do_ that?" he finally asked her, speaking for the first time since they started the exercise.

"Many years of an exercise regime comprised of focusing on my legs," Rachel answered.

He faced away from her to gesture toward the goal post. He shook his head.

"But your _first time kicking,_ you got a goal!" he said incredulously.

Then he turned around. He saw that she was looking at him, her eyes intense. Her lips were open and quivering as she breathed heavily. He reached down to push away a sweaty hair that was plastered to her forehead. Then she licked her lips, and Finn's breath hitched.

Their eyes were locked, and their breath clouds from the cold were intermingled. He could feel her hot breath tickling his chin.

"I didn't think," Rachel breathed. "I just … feel it."

Then a voice came from across the field:

"Rachel! When you're done, don't change out of your tutu! We gotta meet up soon as possible 'cause I gotta be home for my mom's birthday dinner by seven!"

She blinked then looked past Finn and yelled, "That's fine, Noah! I can go now!"

She turned to Finn and quietly and gently said, "Good-bye, Finn."

Then she brushed past Finn, who stared at her throughout her whole exit across the long field. He still watched as they walked toward the parking lot. Rachel began to chat, and Puck slung his guitar over his shoulder. He heard her giggle. Then she was gone.

Finn felt his insides turn in on themselves. He tasted the blood in his mouth from furiously biting his lip. He wanted to lie down on the football field. He wanted to lie down, never move again, and just wait for the ground to open up and swallow him.

"_Good-bye, Finn."_

_

* * *

**A/N: **_This is the last of the densely cerebral chapters. I just had to cover Rachel's thought process during "Special Education." And ever since Rachel's line about fantasizing about her own funeral, I have been in love with the idea that Rachel has this very active-and morbid-imagination, so I _had _to work some Rachel Berry Melodramas in. Next chapter will be a little more action and less thinking! So, stay tuned!

And a big thanks to Jilly (shipper-swabbie) for reading over this chapter for me!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Big thanks to _shipper-swabbie_ for continuing to be an awesome beta for me!

* * *

Finn felt weird. He was early to class, the first to arrive. He hadn't been first to arrive since he was with Rachel, and Rachel would rush them to Glee because "if you aren't prompt, you'll never make it in show business." Not that he ever planned on making it in show business, but it felt kinda badass once they got there, the way they would sneak kisses hat slowly got more and more in-_depth_, in a totally public place. They never knew when another Gleek would enter and they'd get busted. Who knew? By the time someone got in, Finn might've had Rachel on the floor…

Now, Finn felt weirder—or sad or hurt. Or whatever. Because he was thinking about Rachel, and he wasn't supposed to do that anymore. He didn't want to.

Yet, he did. All the time.

Still.

He was lying in bed last night, totally turned on because he was remembering the night he had slipped his hand under Rachel's dress and had cupped her boobs. It was the morning of the wedding. Rachel had volunteered to take Finn off of Kurt's hands and make sure he woke up on time and had the tux on by 10. His mom, Kurt, and Rachel all knew that, though he had an alarm set, it wasn't guaranteed that Finn would get out of bed. He was such a lousy morning person.

He had managed to wake up that morning even before his alarm went off. He turned it off and waited, wide awake, for Rachel to come and rouse him. As he heard Rachel slowly open his creaky door and say his name, he pretended to be asleep.

"Finn-baby, are you awake?"

He lay still, on his side, back facing Rachel. He had to hold back a laugh when he felt Rachel sit on the bed beside his back. She reached for his shoulder, and he quickly rolled over and enveloped a screaming Rachel into his arms.

"Morning," he had said with a grin, the upper half of his body perched above her.

"That was terrible!" she giggled as she slapped at his chest, only succeeding in snagging her hand in his large sleeping shirt and bunching it up to reveal his bare stomach. She freed both hands and slowly slid them up his bare chest beneath his shirt, making playful and sexy sounds all along the way.

Then she made him jump when she gave his chest two sound pats and told him to go brush his teeth and wash his hands. He obeyed, and when he came back, she was still lying on the bed. Her arms opened to him, inviting him to join her back on the bed.

They proceeded to make out, their kisses quickly filling his body with warmth from head to toe. Her tongue perused his mouth, and their lips slid around because they were producing so much spit.

Then, she said it.

"I want you to touch me, Finn."

She guided his hand up her shirt until they bumped into the bottom of her bra—and pushed the bra up until he felt her nipple in his palm! Their kisses grew even sloppier as their mouths were both in an O, puffing hot air into one another's mouths. Urging him to continue, Rachel ran her hands through his hair, fisting them into balls. Staring into her eyes in awe, he squeezed her breast gingerly.

It was _amazing._ Her boobs were even more amazing from this angle. He could hardly believe it!

Then she slid her hand under his shirt and stroked his bare back. In response, Finn let out a deep, resonating sound of intense pleasure he didn't even know he had in him. Rachel smiled proudly then pulled his face to hers. Their faces joined together to form half-coherent kisses which were peppered with Finn's moans which entailed an inaudible "I love you" or two.

Then his alarm had gone off, and they prepared for the wedding, barely touching one another for the rest of the day.

He shook the thought from his head. No use in bringing back his insomniac fantasies (_But they aren't fantasies. They're real_, a voice in the back of his head said) in the middle of school. And he really didn't want to think about what kind of touching Rachel and Puck had been doing.

Yet, he was.

Dammit.

He wondered if, since Rachel didn't make any effort whatsoever to cover she and Puck were together, they would come in together. Thank God Puck wasn't the PDA type—at least, not the way he and Rachel were.

He had never thought he was the PDA type—the girly stuff, that is, like holding hands down the hall and silly hand games and stuff. Quinn was his first girlfriend, and she wasn't much for any of the PDA except when the pregnancy hormones kicked in. When she was pregnant, they held hands or she leaned against him maybe once a month

But then he met Rachel, and it changed. He realized he freakin' loved PDA, and he didn't care that he got giddy interlacing his fingers with Rachel when they walked down the hallway. But Puck wouldn't be like that. Finn wouldn't have to see that. After all, Puck's been with a lot more girls. Puck would know by now if he liked PDA. Right?

He heard folders land on the floor and turned. It was Quinn.

"I heard about you and Sam …" Finn said, trying to sound sympathetic, but then he stopped, realizing if he said "I'm sorry," he wasn't sure he would mean it. After football practice on Monday, he'd called Sam, and Sam didn't seem any happier than when he and Quinn were dating and fighting all the time. Finn was angry, knowing Quinn was (should be) better than this and not put so much pressure on a guy. He settled for letting his sentence trail off and a commiserating look.

"I was planning on leaving that terrible party, anyway," Quinn said with a sigh.

"No, you weren't," Finn said while looking down to cover that he was smirking to himself, knowing that he never would have been that blunt with her when they were dating.

"Fine. He actually wanted to leave, then he just … lost it. It was mortifying. Not only did it hurt, but now I get these _looks_ in the hallway like they're fighting the urge to point and laugh because I got dumped by a _sophomore_! Pretty soon, people will stop caring. I'm gonna be invisible again just like last year."

Finn was startled by how objectively she saw her situation already. He guessed five days of being broken up were enough for some couples. But then he looked up, and he saw the water rivets in her wide eyes.

"Don't say that. You're still pretty much worshiped by the whole school," Finn reassured.

"Oh, that'll fade fast. No one cares about a single girl. Single guys do okay, but girls, they really don't give a damn. _No one _dared to touch us when you and I first started dating. You were my safe place during my pregnancy, and I know I was unfair to lie to keep you, but I was desperate. And Freshman year, when I thought Santana had my back, I did fine. But now that Santana's shown her true colors, and I'm not dating a football player, anymore, I'm losing influence in this school," Quinn sighed.

"That's totally … sexist," Finn said, his mind reeling.

Quinn nodded, her eyes lighting up. Then Finn continued:

"But, really, being invisible's gotta be better than having Azimio and Karofsky up your ass all the time. They've got _three _underclassmen from football ganging up on me with them!"

Quinn scoffed.

"Maybe you should go back to Santana. She'd scare everybody away," she suggested.

Finn shuddered then said, "No way… Why don't _you_?"

"Are you kidding? She may be a mercenary bitch, but she's not an idiot. She'd suspect something."

They sat in silence for a moment. Finn was shocked by how okay with her he felt. No resentment. No embarrassment. Then three words he wasn't planning popped out of his mouth:

"I forgive you."

He turned to watch for her response only to realize that, during their silent moment, a tear had fallen down her right cheek.

"Thank you," she said, and she sniffled and wiped away the tear.

"I know that seemed totally random, but I get why you did it, now. Like you said, it's totally unfair what you put me through, but kinda… flattering that you lied to keep me 'cause I was your safe place."

While quietly smiling at him, Quinn swallowed. Finn wondered if that's where his feelings of love came from, that Quinn saw him as a kinda force field to fend off ridicule and to make her generate power. It's like being around Quinn when she was pregnant made him feel like some kind of super hero.

"This is really getting you down, isn't it?" Finn asked as he watched Quinn sniffle.

"It's everything to me," Quinn answered, seriously. Then she paused and said, "Why don't you and I retake our throne, then?"

"You mean, like, date again? Are you still drunk from that party or something?" Finn looked at her incredulously.

"No, Finn," she answered, firmly, the tears dried from her eyes, "Look, we're both clearly done with love, so let's date for power. Let's pretend we're dating. Get everyone fawning over us again. Wouldn't you like to go back to that place? Get Azimio and Karofsky and their new stooges off your back?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Finn, don't talk. Just think about it," Quinn interrupted.

Finn paused for a long time. At first, he'd thought she'd been insane, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. The pain from Rachel may make him miserable, but at least that pain could be dulled by being on top again. It's not like he'd like another girl anytime soon … May as well enjoy being popular.

But, wait.

"Won't this make me look totally stupid, going back to the girl who embarrassed me?" Finn asked, skeptically.

"Oh, come on, Finn. The masses at this school have the attention span of a parakeet—"

"Is that really short, then?"

"Yes, Finn, that's a really short attention span. And so, yes, the masses will adore us again, and we don't need to do much of anything but be seen together. Except—"

"Except what?"

Quinn snapped her fingers at him.

"_Finn_. I'm gonna need you to concentrate, okay? Now, listen, we need to start off this relationship with a bang so that no one doubts we have chemistry. And if it's a damn good show, we could just walk together to a few classes every day, and we wouldn't need to do anything else," Finn was about to interrupt her, and Quinn glared and spoke more loudly, "_Which is why_ I think we should give them a show at the regional football championship. Since it's a home game, half the school will be there. We should kiss, in front of all of them, so that we're the talk of the school on Monday. I'm thinking at the end of the game, when we win. Even if we don't win, the Frosh girls would think it's so romantic, us falling into one another's arms for solace."

Finn licked his lips, taking in all of this new information. They might buy it. And Rachel?

Screw Rachel. He wasn't her boyfriend anymore. He didn't need to feel guilty. He has to look out for himself. He has to recover his heart that's been beaten to a pulp because of _her._ He's tired of being sad.

"All right. I'll do it," Finn agreed. "But on a few conditions: we act normal around our friends in Glee, meaning I can sit with who I want. And no hanging out outside of school."

"But you have to go to the parties, Finn. At least some."

"I hate most of those parties, Quinn. You know I do. I don't go now, and you think I'm doing all right. Also? Don't snap your fingers at me. I'm not a dog."

Quinn blinked a few times, but then she nodded.

"Okay. Starting tomorrow night at the end of the game, Fuinn is back on," she said, nodding. She still looked sad, but there was hope burgeoning in her eyes.

They both sat in silence, still sitting three chairs away from the other, when Mr Schue came into the room, greeted the two, and began to write the agenda on the board: Tina and Mercedes duet, Rachel and Puck duet.

Finn made a strangled sound. He felt dizzy when, at that moment, Rachel, Mercedes and Puck entered the room, and Puck and Rachel sat next to one another at the front.

Throughout Mercedes and Tina's number, he glared daggers at the back of Rachel's head. Who was this girl, anymore? She wasn't _his _Rachel. He never thought she would do this to him—or be the kind to love someone like Puck. He began wondering if, after kissing Quinn at that game, he shouldn't parade around with Santana, too.

To make matters worse, when Puck and Rachel were called to the front of the class, _everyone_ looked at him (Rachel was right; it was irritating as hell that everyone knew their business)—except Rachel and Puck. Puck sat in Mr. Schue's stool and tuned his guitar, while Rachel pulled up a stool next to him and sat. Puck nodded at her when he was done, and Rachel smiled at him, turned to Finn.

"I know you want space, and I promise to keep giving you that. It's just … Well, you know me. I just _had _to sing how I felt. This song is Noah's and my apology to Finn. The message is more me than Noah, but…," Rachel said in a small voice, letting her sentence trail off awkwardly. Then she nudged Puck, and he looked at Finn, too.

"Dude, I know I walked out and took the higher ground and all, but I shouldn't have even thought about doing that to you again. From now on, I promise to respect you—then maybe I can be your boy again like the old days," Puck said with a smirk.

Then he began strumming, and Finn recognized the song as one of the tracks on his country playlist he had made for Rachel. He knew it was a long-shot when he'd made the list because Rachel didn't listen to country. He had sprung it on her one day, and she put it on her counter. Then she never mentioned it again, and Finn tried not to let it bother him.

Rachel began to sing, and her eyes were on the floor. She tapped her feet, and she shook her head soulfully. Then she looked up and sang to Mercedes and Tina. Mercedes and Tina must have done some funny gesture, because Rachel broke out into a grin as she rejoined the song when Puck sang his verse.

Then she joined eyes with Finn at "_I just need you now_," preceding the instrumental break.

The whole instrumental break, Rachel looked at Finn. Finn found himself breathless and drowning in her eyes. He felt like he was losing himself. Then he pulled away, looked down.

_Guess I'd rather hurt than feeling nothing at all…._

He swallowed hard. Then he looked up again to see that Rachel was singing to the whole audience now. Her right eyelashes were bunched up from the tear he saw had streaked her down cheek.

Before long, the song was done, and Finn felt numb.

* * *

She didn't realize how hard it would be. Rachel felt winded after singing "Need You Now," knowing that she was breaking her New Years Resolution to stop the begging for forgiveness and just have faith that things will work out.

Now she wasn't sure she should have sung to him. She had made herself vulnerable, and he hardly looked at her. So, she stopped looking at him, hanging on every flinch and eye shift. She ended the song grinning, relieved and proud of her bravery at pulling off a song that was so close-to-home.

It hurt when she found the courage to look at Finn, and he wasn't applauding. Then the rest of Glee rehearsal went by as if Rachel hadn't spilled her guts out, sacrificing her dignity at the altar of Love.

It didn't look like it was worth it, either. Finn's facial muscles seemed entirely at rest. He had looked down to avoid her gaze. He wasn't even stunned into silence for the rest of class. He shared his opinion or shrugged his agreement as if it were a regular day.

But then class ended. Mercedes and Tina patted Rachel on the back, and Rachel thanked them for being supportive during her performance, and then the two girls left because they were being picked up by Tina's dad on the other side of school. Heading to the parking lot, Rachel proceeded down the hallway to her car. She started when she saw Finn leaning against the wall just beside the choir room door.

"So, you and Puck weren't …?" he asked.

"No," she answered, gulping. She wondered if she should have reassured him earlier. She felt ashamed when she had left him for Puck during that day. She thought she might reassure him that she and Puck were only working on a song _for him_. But, what if he had asked her not to sing the song? She would have listened, her song for him cut off once again—just like how he cut her off when she tried to serenade him with "Merry Christmas, Darling."

Rachel felt tears build up inside her as she watched Finn continue to stand and stare at her, looking disturbingly stoic. She wished he would stop approaching her if he wasn't going to forgive her. It was torture. Seeing that he refused to speak or leave, Rachel said:

"You should talk with Puck. I know he wants to be friends again. He meant it out there."

Finn nodded apathetically.

Rachel crossed her arms, growing impatient at his insufferable silence.

Then Finn seemed to pull himself out of his shell and asked if she meant it, too.

"Yes, Finn. Of course," she answered.

Then that insufferable silence again!

"What's really on your mind, Finn?" Rachel insisted.

"Why don't you ever just say it? You never did," he said with a renewed strength in his voice and fire in his eyes.

"Say what?" she asked, shocked that she was still retaining the roaring storm inside of her, keeping from bursting into tears.

"I love you!" he said. Then they both took a step back, Finn's eyes wide. Rachel blushed.

"I do say it!" she said, indignantly.

"No, you don't. You _didn't. _You'd say 'I love you, too' after _I_ said it first."

Rachel watched, wide-eyed, as Finn's gaze weakened on her then dropped altogether. He heaved a great sigh. He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I guess you're right—but, Finn! I showed my love in other, little ways. I'm just not one to say empty, cliché statements, I guess."

"Empty statements? Did you think I didn't mean it?"

"No. No, I wasn't implying that. I meant, saying it a lot makes the statement empty and it ceases to fix everything. You used it to try and fix things, Finn." Rachel.

"I did not! I said it because I meant it, Rachel."

Though quiet, Finn's voice boomed in a way that jolted every corner of Rachel's body. The way he said her name shook her to the core. She began trembling. She held out her hands in surrender and said in an unsteady voice, rife with vulnerability:

"All right, I'm sorry. Just … Finn, when things got hard, you got so tight-lipped. That week we were fighting, I felt unprotected and alone because you were being _so _careful that you stayed away and barely talked to me, waiting for the troubles to just go away. But, please, let's not argue … Finn, I honestly think you're just picking a fight here. I loved you in my way; you loved me in yours. I still love you," she finished, and she saw that Finn was looking at her lips.

He took her face in his hand and kissed her hastily, as if some force was soon going to intercept them. With a whimper, Rachel kissed back—until he broke it off, pulling his face away from hers with a great rush of steamy breath that made Rachel feel the old Finchel Butterflies in her stomach.

"I'm sorry," he said sporadically, hopping away from her. "Dammit! I shouldn't have done that! It's this week. You getting close again has messed me up," he clung to the reasoning as he looked away from her.

He held his hands out in that pitying way she recognized from the last time she desired him and he was far and out of her reach. She heaved a broken sigh, feeling the tears well in her eyes.

"I have been giving you space just like you wanted, Finn! It's you and your random appearances beside me in the hallway and your 'giving tips' for things I don't need to know during football practice that's been bringing us together. You, Finn! I have been keeping away! Then _you _kiss _me, _and—it's not fair that you can do this to me when I can't."

"I said I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, exactly? Loving me?"

"Yes, in fact!"

"That's all I needed to know…" Rachel said as she turned. She stood there a moment, trying to compose herself.

_If you cry, he'll just think you're trying to get his pity_, she thought sternly to herself.

When she felt composed enough, she turned back around, and Finn was gone.

_Of course, he'd be gone_, she thought to herself._ He's a coward. He can't decide. He doesn't want me near, but he doesn't want me far either. He just likes blaming me and making me the cause of all his problems._

_Which I am._

She began sniffling, a tear or two falling as soon as she opened her locker door. She hiccuped as she took out her book bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then, on her solitary walk through the hallway, her tears came in a steady stream. She tried to tell herself it was from the emotional drain of singing. She told herself it was because her feet hurt from kicking the ball in ballet slippers (new and sturdy though they were) on Monday. She told herself it was the birth control pill that she had taken that morning making her emotional. Anything to make her feel less pathetic; to face the fact that she could actually be the bane of the existence of her favorite person in the world.

But he loved her. He clearly also saw there _was _hope. Maybe he would realize someday, like she realized early in their relationship, that they were It. Capital I It. Also known as Forever.

These thoughts began to slow her tears and make her despair balk. She had hope, love—and now, friendship.

Then, interrupting her thoughts, her phone vibrated. She took it out and saw it was a text message from Kurt, which said:

"It's official! I'm coming home tomorrow for the game! I'm going to have a sleepover. Mercedes is coming. Care to join? :)"

Rachel smiled. Thank goodness for friends.

* * *

**A/N: **Care to review? I'm especially curious about your reactions to this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_Shipper-Swabbie_ was, once again, my amazing beta, and I am very grateful to her help!

* * *

It was Friday, the day of the big game. Finn woke up to a somber voice in his ear, almost like a whisper. He turned his head to look at the clock on his bed table: it was almost 5, and he had fallen asleep listening to music on his iPod. He looked at the screen: Hold On – Dashboard Confessional.

He listened as the voice crooned through his ear buds: _She had a history of killing herself. I had a habit of dying._

He rolled onto his back, staring up into the darkness of his room. He realized he was sweating and chucked his sheet off of half his body. He sighed and listened to the song:

_And I had a vision of seeing things straight. She had the heart of a liar._

_I never saw her leave me once. She never saw me beside her._

He frowned. How did this song get on his playlist? Not nearly loud and angry enough. So, he pressed the skip button.

Just then, he heard the door open.

Though he could hardly see, he knew it was Kurt because he was the only person who never knocked—and his mom had told him that morning the whole family was having dinner together that night. He paused his iPod.

"Helloo? Finn? Did you _seriously_ put down the blinds? You're sitting in the dark listening to Dashboard Confessional again, aren't you?"

"N-no," Finn began to answer, propping himself up by his elbows.

"Honestly, I thought you were past that phase—oop! Sorry!"

Kurt had flicked the light on to find Finn lying in bed in just his boxers. The intruding boy blushed very briefly—giving Finn an instant rush of icy mortification throughout his body. Then Finn was instantly relieved when he saw the blush chased away by a dramatic eye roll.

"For God's sake, Finn! It's barely five, and you _knew _my dad and I were coming for dinner. Get some clothes on!" Kurt said as he pranced out of Finn's room.

"Nice to see you, too, bro!" Finn yelled at the retreating boy with a mirthless smirk.

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt projected from behind the closed bedroom door.

The three Hummels and Finn, the only Hudson (that was going to be weird), had a pleasant dinner together. Even though it had only been two weeks, everyone was giddy over Kurt's return and asked after his classes and the Warblers—and Finn jokingly made a few jabs at how New Directions was going to pummel those Garglers. Also, Burt and Carole talked about the houses they had looked at since Kurt had left, saying that one looked very promising, and they wanted to take the boys to see the house the next day. Then Burt drove the family to the school for the championship football game, dropping Finn off just outside of the locker room.

He found that Artie was the only one in the locker room. They both greeted one another as if they hadn't seen one another in weeks. It made Finn feel good to see his buddy grinning at him after feeling gloomy and alone the whole day. Kurt was generally a cheering presence, too, but some days, he felt the boy judging him, looking down on him for being mopey—and it really pissed Finn off today. Kurt didn't know what he'd been through—the emotional strife that was all of Thursday.

"Hey, man, when are we gonna hang out again, so's I can beat yo ass in Halo?" Artie said, then he chuckled.

"We've hung out, haven't we? … Has it been that long?" Finn asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," Artie said, nodding. "Since school started two weeks ago, I haven't heard from you outside of school."

"Wow. Sorry. I miss hanging with you, too. It's just, I've been staying late at football practice. Lots of pressure as the QB, ya know," Finn said as the two boys opened their lockers and began to get ready.

"More like you've been keeping _Rachel _late every practice, giving her lectures. You know that's pissing her off, right? You're really stuck on her… Sorry, but it's true."

"I just had to make sure she's caught up with everything … No way I'll be quarterback next year if something happens to her," Finn said quietly as he helped Artie put on his shoulder pads. Artie always came early half-dressed, having had his mom put his pants and leg padding on at home. Depending on who came first, Finn, Mike, or Puck helped him put on the top half.

"Finn, I don't think Rachel needed to hear about the importance of jockstraps …"

Finn merely sighed in response.

"You know," Artie consoled his buddy, "it's okay to miss her. Break ups are hard. I was the same way with Tina. Just don't shut out the rest of your life along with her. It only makes matters worse."

Finn let the subject drop. He hated hearing everyone say how it gets easier. He knew he'd always ache with regret. It was pathetic because he wasn't the one who totally screwed up, but he knew the break-up would always hurt because his mind would race with scenarios of how he could have prevented what Rachel did.

Or maybe it was because he never wanted to forget. But, forget what exactly, he didn't know …

* * *

Finn internally groaned when he saw Quinn emerge from the clump of Cheerios and make a bee-line for him on the football field sidelines. The must have been close to starting, but shewas determined to talk to him, apparently.

When she passed Santana, Santana leaned over and said something. Quinn's face grew cross, no doubt at something snarky Santana had said. Then Santana winked wantonly at Finn. Finn narrowed his eyes.

When was Santana going to get the hint? Since Finn had broken up with Rachel, Santana had been making incredibly strong advances on him. It was around that time that Finn realized he wasn't tempted by Santana at all anymore. She was hot, sure, but he didn't like the idea of trying to have sex again. She freaked him out in the sack.

Santana was all about domination—and Santana's interpretation of domination was obliterating the other participant's presence. Santana's sexual vigor was in the fact that she hardly paid any attention to him. At the time, he kind of appreciated it because it snuffed out his anxieties of what he should do next. Santana took care of _everything_. When it came to touching, Santana mostly touched herself. When she did put her hands on Finn, she was like a cat clawing at a post. It was almost like, if she could, she would have sex with herself.

But then, Finn realized Santana wasn't actually looking at him. She was looking just behind him.

Sure enough, when he turned around, he saw Sam waving mildly at Santana. On the surface, he looked smug, but Finn saw a shadow falling over his teammate's face. Then Sam hastily walked away. Finn knew that meant Sam had seen Quinn coming at them. He turned to face her.

"You're not gonna back out now, are you? We're doing this, and we're not telling anyone what's going on," Quinn said through her teeth.

He knew he had to lie to her. He knew, early on, he couldn't keep this from Sam. He had actually already told Sam after school earlier that day. Sam shocked Finn by reacting with silence, at first, then speaking slowly, in a withdrawn voice: "It's fine. I mean, I dumped her, didn't I? We're still cool… I know I'd do something like that to be more popular if I could."

Finn didn't believe him, but he didn't press the matter. He was kind of proud of himself for telling Sam. He didn't _have_ to tell Sam. So, what he was doing wasn't totally bad. Sure, he was being a little selfish. All right. Fine. He was just going to be a little selfish this time, okay? He had a right to pursue happiness.

While rubbing his neck and looking away from Quinn, he said, "I won't tell anyone. And, no, I'm not backing out. Why would you think that?"

"Because I know you, Finn. I know you're lame enough to be moved back to your cheating girlfriend just because she serenaded you with a redundant, stale country song," Quinn practically spat at him, her voice thickening.

Finn saw she was clearly upset by something else: Sam, probably. (Possibly something related to what Santana had just told Quinn? … He didn't want to know…)

"Well, you have nothing to worry about because I'm not. Nothing's changed. And what have I got to lose by doing this?"

Finn's question elicited a small smile from Quinn.

"Good. See you at the end of the game, then," the Cheerio said as she backed away—then stopped herself.

"Oh, and, Finn?"

"Yes, Quinn?" Finn said, deadpan.

"I have my own condition. Please _please_ stop exploding your fist bumps. I'm pretty sure it hasn't been cool for a decade," Quinn remarked as she flitted away.

* * *

After school on Friday, Rachel went straight home to pack her things and fill out the three online application forms for various arts programs in New York City over the summer. Successful actors and actresses on Broadway were alumni of these programs, and Rachel knew she needed to get in. Last year, the program began accepting video auditions instead of only holding auditions in select cities. This year, Rachel was old enough to apply. Rachel knew it was her destiny.

Over winter break, she had recorded herself singing her most recent songs of her repertoire which she had carefully selected in the fall, based on emotional connection she had and how they showed off her strongest talents. Then, over winter break, she had recorded them after months of rehearsing and taking notes.

She opened and watched her recordings on her laptop with dismay: none of those songs were any good. Well, they were fantastic and perfectly sung, of course, but they couldn't be submitted. The emotional connectivity was seriously lacking.

The deadline wasn't for two more months—March 15th—but she knew she had to make sure to get the application in early because it would make her look good. An actress who isn't prompt isn't any good at all. Her daddy tells her that. (Not that Rachel had ever been late, of course!)

With a frustrated sigh, she decided she would pick and record a different song tomorrow (after she got home from her first sleepover that very night!). Now that she saw the problem of emotional connectivity, she knew what she had to do.

She knew it was time to dust off the sad song repertoire she had built up while Finn was dating Quinn. They may not quite suffice to match her more mature status as a hallowed lover and might not lend a deep enough crevice into which to seep her ennui—but that collection of Other Woman songs would be a better launching pad than her cheerful happily-in-love songs or her friendless songs. How her life had flipped onto its head since last year! She had neither, then she had one and not the other; now she has other but not the one.

Remembering how her confrontation with Finn the day before had reduced her to tears, she began to wonder. Maybe she isn't meant to have it all. No matter how much she strived for and wanted all beautiful aspects that life had to offer, maybe no one, not even she, is allowed to have it all. A law against nature, perhaps.

She forced herself to move on, shunning her dark mood.

Before she knew it, she had finished filling out the online application form and uploading her essay on all three programs' websites. It was five o'clock—time to put her game face on. Literally.

She was too nervous to eat dinner, so instead, she painted those black lines under her eyes with face paint she bought for Halloween and braided her hair six times. She grimaced at herself, trying different ways to look fierce. With teeth. Without teeth. Eyes squinted. Eyes wide open.

Then she took a break to put on her black long Johns. Then, when she turned back to the mirror, all she could see was the last time she had worn these tight, slick Long Johns:

It was Halloween. She was Minnie Mouse. She was all in black on the top and covering her legs, with a red polka-dotted skirt and a red bowtie in her hair and a black tail. The black make-up made her mouse nose.

She didn't normally dress up for Halloween anymore—not since she was ten when her dads said she was too old to trick or treat—but that Halloween was special. She wasn't going to a party, but she was going to spend the night with Finn, and that was occasion enough.

Early in the evening, she and Finn walked with two young siblings who were Finn's neighbors around the neighborhood to trick or treat. Finn carried the little girl on his shoulders, and the little boy held Rachel's hand ("He was totally in love with you, Rach!" Finn told her later with a chuckle.) Then they handed out treats to the trick-or-treaters at his house while Carole went out with Burt to dinner and a movie.

When the trick or treaters got fewer and farther between, they played Connect Four. If she told someone like Quinn or Santana about that night, Rachel was sure they would say that giving out treats then playing Connect Four with your boyfriend was the lamest way to spend Halloween, but they had no idea what magic she and Finn brought to everything they did together.

Not to mention the sexiness.

She smiled at this memory as she put on her coat and called to her dads that it was almost time for them to go to the football stadium.

* * *

It was about 45 minutes into the championship game that night that she first saw Finn sit out. Rachel hadn't been called to play yet, and she was too anxious to sit, so she stood around and paced.

Finn had been sitting alone at a bench for a few minutes. She couldn't help but skirt along the edges of the borderline of his space bubble she was trying to give him to watch his profile and his hands go through his hair. Then she heard him singing a song the whole Glee club was working on, hitting the high G with perfect ease—just like she had taught him.

Before she knew it, she was standing beside the other end of the bench.

"Singing The Holy Grail song?" she said, bringing up their inside joke.

He chuckled.

Any song with a high G for the tenors was the Holy Grail song. Normally, Rachel would burst out into a rendition of "Find Your Grail" from Spamalot. She would sing it just like it was done in the show, ridiculously over-sung on purpose. Finn thought it was hilarious. It was the first time she had made someone laugh till they cried—with the intention of making them laugh, that is.

She was so thrilled by it that she began to write random notes to him during Glee, asking, "Have you found your grail?" He came up with really creative answers, sometimes, like: "The space between Paris Hilton's ears" and "The fifth layer in Inception."

Once he answered: "Yup. Was you all along." And he had one of his terrible hearts drawn around "you." Rachel remembered that she had wanted to pounce him right then and there.

Though he didn't look at Rachel at the other end of the bench, Finn replied:

"I'm beginning to think the Holy Grail is a little too easy to find." He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees, looking at his clasped hands.

Rachel sat down and said, "Yeah, it's the keeping it that's the difficult part."

"You know, I'm thinking that this trying-to-keep-a-distance stuff is only making things harder. I'm thinking we should be … friends, again, ya know?" Finn said, his neck slowly lulling to the side to watch her reaction with anxious eyes.

Rachel let out a sputtering laugh, unsure if this was what she wanted or not.

"Then maybe I won't be an ass and kiss you then split," Finn said, trying to make it a joke by shrugging and chuckling.

She smiled trying to smother the hurt she felt. She began to regret lecturing him on kissing her when she couldn't kiss him. Before she knew if she really wanted this or not, she said laughingly:

"Sure. Sure! Friends … Might be better."

She realized she was furiously nodding. She immediately stopped. She must have looked ridiculous, like a bobble head with a big, fake grin.

Then they sat in silence until Finn was called back into the game, leaving without a word.

Rachel sat still, having lost her anxiety and desire to pace, falling instead into a feeling of numbness. She found herself staring at Carole in the crowd with her husband, Kurt, and who she assumed must be the famous Blaine. It cheered her a little to see Carole looking so happy.

Dating Finn, Rachel felt like she practically won the lottery. Not only did she get an amazing boyfriend, but she also got an amazing mother. Carole was so good to her. Too good to her.

No doubt Carole realized that now.

Struck with shame, Rachel bowed her head. She was sure Finn had told Carole everything. Carole must hate her now.

She put her head in her hands.

* * *

The first time Rachel was called up to kick, she missed. This only contributed to her further wishing only to sit on the bench and reduce herself to tears.

And she gave herself two minutes to do so, and then she brooded because she had nothing else to do.

Friends? No no no _no_. She can't just be friends with Finn. He can't want to be just friends! Can he? She had been so sure that if she gave him time, everything would fall into place; that he would realize they were the epitome of Love.

She saw that her terrible mood was only about to get worse when she noted Azimio and another boy on the team joining her sitting on the bench, looking like vultures with the predatory look in their eyes and the crane of their necks.

"Knew you couldn't handle it, Rachy-Beard. Damn! Men thrive under pressure; girls may as well put they heads in a hole!" then he flailed his arms and spoke in a high-pitched voice: "_Is it over yet? I'm tired! My feet hurt! My make-up's smudged!_"

He paused, letting her soak in his string of sexist comments, then he continued:

"Would you like me to do that for you? Should I dig a hole for you to jump in?"

Rachel turned and glared at the bully.

"Leave me alone, Azimio, or I'll get the coach! You've been giving me trouble all week, and I've _had it!_" she practically shouted.

"Baby, you need to _cool down_. I mean no harm," Azimio said, amused. "Here, lemme help you."

The other boy handed Azimio a blue Gatorade drink. It was the color of their enemy team—and unopened. Rachel knew they had saved this just for her.

She stammered in protest, backing away from Azimio, elbowing the other boy, trying to get him out of the way.

Suddenly, a black tennis shoe flew from the football field and smacked Azimio in the face. Caught off guard by the blow, Azimio fell forward toward Rachel and spilled the drink all over her. Then, to make matters worse, Azimio grabbed at Rachel's chest to keep his balance.

Rachel grimaced in pain, then she slapped at his face tactlessly, desperately, with her blue-dyed hands.

"Get off me, you oaf!" she said as she managed to stumble away when Azimio and the other boy moved away as Coach Beiste and the rest of the team passed by, leaving the field.

When she was able to compose herself, she looked around and realized it must be half-time. She saw that the Cheerios were on the field in their formation. Then the music started. She also saw that Finn was the last to leave the field, walking in her direction, making her catch her breath—and inhale some of that disgusting Gatorade.

Finn retrieved the black shoe from the ground, sat on the bench, and put the shoe back on his foot. So _he_ had thrown the shoe. Rachel's annoyance flared to full-on anger.

"Sorry, Rach. When I threw my shoe, I didn't mean…" he started.

"Yeah, well," Rachel interrupted, sputtering while spitting out the blue juice that was dripping into the corner of her mouth. That stuff was _all over_. "It happened, and now I'm cold; my hands are blue; and my hair is sticky and smells like blueberry."

"Sorry …" Finn said weakly.

"What kind of leader are you? You've allowed Azimio to make crude comments all week!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Put a zipper over his mouth?"

"You could have tried harder. Instead of a shoe out of nowhere, you, the quarterback, his superior, should have been right there, facing him."

"I don't deserve this," Finn groused, banging his helmet down onto the bench as he stood straight up. "I tried to help, Rachel!"

"Well, maybe I don't want your help if you're too cowardly to actually face a person! I was moving away. I would have been better off saving myself," Rachel said in a low, harsh voice, all-too-aware of the football players congregated just a foot or two away.

"Fine! I won't help you anymore!" Finn shouted. Then he stomped away to join Artie at the water dispenser.

Rachel regretted everything the moment she saw his back. She realized she was picking a fight, just like Finn had done yesterday.

* * *

The next time Rachel was called up to kick, Azimio and his goons taunted her, and the corner of her mouth still felt sticky from the juice. Finn shouting "I won't help you anymore!" resonated in her hollowed chest. She was also cold.

In short, she was absolutely furious, and she used the rage that festered inside of her and kicked the crap out of that ball.

The ball cleared the goal post, easily, and the crowd went wild. She mildly smiled when she saw Kurt jumping up and down, clapping and smiling at her. Her smile began to show teeth when she saw at least a dozen of her teammates jumping, whooping, and grinning at her.

She wished one of those faces smiling and cheering for her were Finn's.

However, Finn was getting ready for the last few minutes of the game. Before long, she was ushered off of the field and watched the rest of the game from the bench.

That is, she watched Finn. And it turns out, watching Finn was practically the same as watching the game because he _was _the game. Finn won the game when he caught the ball and ran it past the goal. She couldn't help but smile when he threw off his helmet, and she beheld his cute helmet hair that made him look like the lead singer of an emo band—except more sweaty and manly.

But then, she saw Quinn rush up to him. They kissed. In response, the crowd went absolutely crazy.

And Rachel felt her insides implode.

Rachel, Kurt, and Mercedes were the last to leave the field. Rachel was sobbing and refused to let anyone else see her by leaving. All the while, she tried to chokingly explain why she should just go home and skip the sleepover.

She told them she felt sick; she was dirty; she was in a terrible mood. But, to Rachel's secret delight, Mercedes and Kurt refused to let her back out. They told her she couldn't spend the night alone.

"Besides, this may be the last time I'm in Lima for a long time, so it's my say, not yours,," Kurt commanded, winking when Rachel chuckled a little.

"What about Blaine? Didn't you invite him?" Mercedes asked.

Kurt's brow wrinkled momentarily, then he said dismissively, "Can't come. He told me his parents want him to stay with them tonight."

When they arrived at Kurt's house, Rachel's eyes were dry. They were greeted by Burt, who was watching TV. Rachel observed that, fortunately, Carole wasn't with him. Before leaving them alone, he gave Rachel a hearty pat on the back and told her warmly she "did good. Real good. Is there something _blue _on that football field…?"

Rachel took a shower, then she, Mercedes, and Kurt agreed that they felt like a movie. It turns out that none of them could decide on a movie, so they all picked one movie out and watched all three. They watched Mercedes's movie first—_Burlesque. _Then they watched Rachel's choice—_The Little Mermaid, _which, to Kurt and Mercedes's shock, Rachel had never seen. Rachel tried to explain that her parents thought it gave a bad message to little girls about how plastic surgery was okay.

Rachel found it hard to cover up her smile when she saw Kurt crying at the happy wedding between the prince and Ariel.

Then Kurt's movie _Mamma Mia!,_ which was going to be Rachel's choice before Kurt chose it, was next. Near the end, Rachel felt herself begin to cry as she quietly sang along to "The Winner Takes it All." Her voice drifted over the notes, thick and oddly mellow.

Kurt nudged her with his elbow, telling her; "If you're gonna sing it, Berry. _Sing it."_

Rachel sat up and began belting, tears streaming down her face. She felt light-headed. She was tired and sad and reaching the hysteria staying up until 3 a.m. often did to her. She stood up and began to sing fiercely.

_The winner takes it all,_

_The loser has to fall._

_It's simple and it's plain,_

_Why should I complain?_

Never before had Rachel felt both so sad and so giddy at the same time. As if she had given up on everything, and the feeling was so _liberating. _She felt that, if she wanted to, she could be free of this angst Finn was clearly free of—all that sadness and anxiety. Love makes life so complicated, she knew. Like dealing with Santana, Rachel knew she had the power to choose love to not have a tyranny over her.

Kurt and Mercedes sang back-up and took out their cell phones and began waving them like lighters at a concert.

_Tell me does she kiss,_

_Like I used to kiss you?_

_Does it feel the same,_

_When she calls your name?_

The thing was: she wasn't sure she wanted to be liberated.

* * *

**A/N: **I am looking at two more chapters till our happy ending. The worst angst is over, if you can believe it!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Well, my speculation was way off on this Quinn/Finn thing, huh? Phew! My head feels like it could explode!

If you're feeling down about the massive "Silly Love Songs" spoiler, I offer you Finchel Reconciliation! Right here, in this chapter!

My original plan was seven chapters, but the characters kind of took over and derailed me from my outline-resulting in only six chapters. Finn and Rachel just would not be delayed _any longer. _

Enjoy my happy ending!

* * *

Rachel was last to wake up. She smelled eggs, and it made her stomach churn. One good thing about going vegan was that she was never a lover of eggs and meat. And now that it had been almost a year since she became a vegan, the foods didn't even appeal to her when she was starving with a rumbling stomach like she was at that moment.

She put on her fuzzy lavender robe and went upstairs, yawning all the way. She hadn't slept well the night before. Once Rachel's sniffles in the dark were over, Kurt shared his frustrations with Blaine. He knew Blaine liked him, but how much, Blaine never lets him know. By the time it was four in the morning, Rachel began to babble about her frustrations in the early days with Finn, trying to commiserate with him. Eventually, Mercedes had had it and snarked for the two of them to go to sleep because at least they enjoy entertaining the possibility of boys liking them. Mercedes, on the other hand, didn't see anyone at all interested in her and was irritated to hear about something she thought she couldn't have. So, Rachel shut up and went to bed. It was probably around 5:30 in the morning.

The journey of becoming friends with Mercedes was proving to be more treacherous than her path to friendship with Kurt was. Neither were as easy to be with as Finn, but with them, she wasn't constantly wondering what they were thinking about what she was saying, how she looked, etc. That part was nice of hanging out with friends as opposed to a boyfriend was nice.

Anyway, Mercedes did not have as much patience with Rachel as Kurt did, so Rachel was trying to tone herself down as Mercedes was learning to count to ten before responding. Fortunately, even when they neglected these new habits, their friendship took damage much better than a precarious romantic relationship would.

Rachel followed the breakfast smell to the kitchen, cheerfully greeted by her friends. Kurt offered her some Eggs Benedict he had made. She blushed, having to refuse, informing him that she was vegan. She then took out her own vegan breakfast she had brought, anticipating Kurt's home would not have anything vegan.

"We only just started breakfast. We were starving and weren't sure you'd ever wake up!" Kurt said just before he delicately drank his glass of milk with his pinky jutted out.

"It's almost 10:30, barely five hours after we finally fell asleep! What time did you two wake up?"

"About an hour ago. I couldn't sleep because I was too hungry, so I had something then decided to just stay up," Mercedes explained. Then she jumped when her phone pinged. She looked at it and furrowed her brow.

"Your parents already?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah," Mercedes answered with a flicker of guilt. Rachel raised her eyebrow.

Kurt interjected, "Actually, it was Tina. Tina is coming by soon to take Mercedes shopping. Mercedes was just trying to be sensitive to you and not make you feel left out."

"Oh!" Rachel interjected, embarrassed. Disheartened. She wouldn't have minded the distraction of shopping with the girls instead of going home to face her internal gloom through song. Cut after cut after cut until the video was perfect and she was emotionally spent.

"Yeah," Mercedes said, clearly ashamed.

"Well, last night was fun," Rachel said, trying to start cheerful conversation though she felt anything but cheerful.

_When you're smiling. When you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you._

Kurt raised his eyebrow at her.

"Well, okay, I was fending off deep depression—and failing … But thank you for being there for me. I never thought I'd have friends like this."

Kurt gave Rachel a gentle smile that filled her with warmth. She recognized this smile; she had seen him grant it to Mercedes a few times and once to Quinn. She knew this was a very special smile just for her.

"No problem, girl," Mercedes contributed with a smile. "It's gotta be hard to see Finn move on so fast."

Though Mercedes spoke gently, the statement stung at Rachel's core, making her mood dramatically sink, no longer able to avoid the reality of what happened the night before.

_Well, who can blame him? _she thought. _She's gorgeous, knows the right things to say at the right time, and everyone at school admires her._

Rachel was silent the rest of the conversation. Burt stopped by during breakfast to chat, and then the three tired friends all took turns taking showers. Once each had finished his or her morning routine, they talked somberly and listened to music for two hours straight in the living room. Then Tina came.

Tina untangled her windswept hair, wet from the snow, and cheerfully told Mercedes and Kurt about the sales they should go to. Rachel's mouth dropped open.

"Wait. You're going shopping, too, Kurt?" Rachel said.

Kurt bowed his head.

"Yeah, that was the plan for the sleepover. But Tina—"

"Look, Rachel. I didn't sleepover with you guys because I'm just not sure about you. Kurt tells me you're actually cool to hang out with, and that's fine. We hang out at school when Mercedes is with us. But a sleepover? I just wasn't sure."

Rachel was stunned. Kurt took over:

"I'm sorry, dear, but it was easier for me to warm up to you once I was separated from your terrible behavior in Glee club. When it's just you, me, and Mercedes, you're actually normal, and, well, no one else in Glee club can conceptualize that."

Rachel took a breath to begin to protest, but Mercedes beat her to the punch:

"I'll say this as gently as I can, Rach. In Glee club, you're in, like, hyper-diva mode, like you gotta remind everyone what you can do all the time, and it is annoying as _hell_. No one believes me when I say you're not like that outside of school. It's painful to watch you embarrass yourself in Glee."

"Do I really say such bad things?" Rachel asked in earnest.

"Earlier this week," Tina chimed in, her voice unsympathetic, "You volunteered to _generously _let me and Mercedes sing back-up for you because we 'had really very sweet voices, which you thought were ready to complement your own leading lady brass.' Mercedes and me _do not _sing sweet back-up."

"I-I meant it as a complement…" Rachel squeaked.

"It felt like you were condescending us. You don't have to go around saying 'Look at me! I always sing the solos, and the only way anyone else will get any recognition is if _I _recognize them!" Tina explained.

Kurt crossed the invisible line Rachel felt form between her and Mercedes and Tina, who were standing together.

"Rachel, don't cry … Mercedes and I are still your friends, despite the things you say to make other people hate you. We don't hate you," Kurt said as he slowly, awkwardly rubbed her back. Kurt's nurturing nature was limited, making the gesture stilted, but it soothed Rachel a little.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. Tina, maybe this wasn't a good time," Mercedes said, also crossing the line. Then she looked at Tina and said in a low voice, "Did you hear about how Finn kissed Quinn after they won the game last night? In front of _everybody_?"

"No," Tina answered, her demeanor softening. "Ouch."

"It's okay, Tina," Rachel announced, trying to put on a brave face. "As painful as it is, I understand what you mean. I suppose I can be … overbearing about my talent, at times."

All three of the others nodded eagerly, and she was reminded of the first day back to school when Jacob had interviewed her and Finn. How eagerly he had also agreed that she was annoying in Glee club!

_Maybe he realized what a joke I was in Glee. What does a boy who cares about his reputation want with a girl with verbal diarrhea? He may always love her, but will he want to actually _be _with her again?_

Rachel's tears began to flow again (as if she hadn't dried herself out last night!). She tried to stop them, and she knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't help it!

Then Kurt spoke again:

"Well, I feel like a certified piece of crap for breaking the heart of a girl who _already_ had a broken heart. But it had to be said, and it was said, so let's move on. To apologize, I'd like to offer my services for your video project for that summer New York program. I'll lend you my new microphone I got for Christmas. I doubt any mic you have is as good as mine. And I'll film it for you and yell 'Cut!' when you look constipated and save you the time of finishing and re-watching."

"A microphone to attach to my video camera?"

"That's right, my dear," Kurt said, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Rachel nodded meekly, the last tear that had clung to her eye slipping down her cheek. She wiped it away and sniffled. Mercedes hugged her.

* * *

Rachel had one mission the Monday after the weekend McKinley won its regional football championship: not speak during Glee club, but listen. Also sneak a peek at Finn and Quinn …

Who were not sitting next to one another…

After that one look, she didn't allow herself another. She could hardly bare to think of it. It made her feel as if her stomach were in knots and had acid poured over it.

Not speaking during Glee club was incredibly hard. First, Brittany kept forgetting what a coda was, and Mr. Schue had to explain three times. Then Santana said that, during Regionals, they should sing "Sexy Back" where the Cheerios dance and use the other girls as chairs.

And it was especially hard not to answer Mr. Schue between takes what everyone thought when everyone's A's weren't tall enough, and she _simply agonized_ over the fact that she could not show them the right way, reminding them to follow her lead, as she worked hours every week on proper vowel placement.

Everyone noticed, too.

"I haven't heard Rachel say anything yet. Has she duct-taped her mouth again?" Artie asked when Glee practice was almost over.

"Nope. Hello! Here I am!" Rachel said as everyone gaped at her.

Despite the struggles, she made it through without commenting or suggesting anything that whole rehearsal. Mercedes and Tina gaped at her as she hurriedly trotted out of class before everyone else.

The next day, the second of their three Glee rehearsals each week, was Phase Two. At Mike's suggestion, the club was performing a group rendition of "Starlight" by Muse. Rachel has a solo at the beginning. When the song finished, Mr. Schue suggested a few tweaks, then called on Rachel, who had her held straight up for almost four minutes, and she said:

"Mr. Schue. I think … Everyone sounded great on this, first of all. All we're really lacking is …"

She knew Mercedes's eyes were tightening on her. She felt it.

"… We should all try to really listen to one another. Balanced and tight harmonies are vital to this performance," Rachel finished with a pant.

Mr. Schue's eyebrows shot up—so did, she couldn't help but notice, Finn's.

The rest of the week, Rachel spoke more and more, choosing her words carefully. It was easier now that she knew she was in the presence of friends. Puck was still being nice to her; Finn didn't seem to hate her; and Tina and Mercedes—and even Mike—were full of warm looks just for her if ever she needed them.

Her friends also gave advice. Mercedes told her to never use the word "I." Tina's advice was not to recommend new song, detailing herself as the soloist. Both friends' advice worked like a charm. Her week's mission managed to distract her from fretting and mourning over Finn. Further, it dulled that perpetual ache she knew she would never be rid of. (At least, not until she graduated and got out of Lima—though even then, she wasn't sure.)

Before she knew it, it was Thursday and the last Glee rehearsal of the week, and she had managed the whole week of Glee without opining negatively or saying "I" once. Mr. Schuester announced that next week's assignment was Valentine's Day songs. At first, she huffed in defeat and rolled her eyes. She wondered what song Finn would sing for Quinn…

But then, Mercedes placed her hand over Rachel's white knuckles and said, "You wanna be my Valentine?"

* * *

It was Monday, and she was excited. Sure, she and Mercedes had clashed a bit that morning when Mercedes dismissed the YouTube video performance of "Your Daddy's Son" by the Broadway Goddess Audra McDonald Rachel posted on her Facebook profile as "all right," but Rachel caught herself and stopped letting it bother her. The rest of the day, she and Mercedes giggled most of the day, like usual, Rachel acting coy as Mercedes tried to drag out clues about what song Rachel was going to sing for the assignment at Glee on Tuesday. Rachel managed to successfully keep her mouth shut until Glee Tuesday afternoon. Then, it was time.

Rachel steadily made her way to the front of the class, her stomach dropping when she realized she would have to feel Finn's eyes on her—and actually look at the face that held those eyes. She made sure to look at Mercedes first. Mercedes nodded and took her phone out. Then her eyes reached their utmost in periphery.

…And Finn wasn't sitting with Quinn. More than that, Quinn was sitting with Sam! And everyone's gaze at her was one of gentle eagerness—even Santana's expression.

"As you all know, I'm currently single. But I'm not without a Valentine. _Mercedes_," Rachel began, grinning and wrinkling her nose at her friend.

Mercedes smiled.

"In the past month, I've learned how complicated love is. It has lots of different ways of appearing in your life. It's not always the romantic kind. Until Mercedes and Kurt—oh! Say 'hi," Kurt!"

"Hello, all," Kurt's voice sounded from Mercedes's cell, which was on speaker phone.

"Thanks to them, I've learned about the love between friends, which is actually quite potent, too. The message of this song is basically what I got from my friend … Hold the phone high, Mercedes, so Kurt can hear!" she said, giggling nervously. "Okay, well …"

Then the song began with the innocuous line Rachel never understood: _Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again? _

_

* * *

_

Finn remembers the moment Kurt found out about him and Quinn. He got a text at 9 in the morning the Saturday after the football game that said, "If you hurt Quinn's feelings using her as a rebound, I will cut you."

"U sure like to threaten, dont u, pipsqueak?" Finn texted back. Then he got serious and followed that text immediately with, "Dont worry were both reboundin. dont u evr worry a/b me?"

"Of course, I do. But you're already a wreck. Not much more damage can be done."

Had he been _that _obvious?

He remembers the moment he realized dating Quinn wasn't going to get Azimio and Karofsky off his back—nor make him happier. Quinn claimed she was now better off, but Finn couldn't agree about his own situation. He only noticed that the underclassmen didn't dare gang up on Finn with Karosky and Azimio. What would it take to get Karofsky and Azimio off his back besides converting into a complete homophobic jerk?

He had no damn idea anymore. All he knew was that it took one week of being elbowed in the ribcage and glared at continually by Quinn to realize this fake-dating would not work. Quinn wasn't very nice to him, and he felt like a joke, a sell-out. He wasn't getting any benefits except that the frosh girls looked at them starry-eyed when they passed and random guys winked or gave Finn a high five.

Finn remembers the moment he knew he wanted Rachel back.

(Can you believe this was all one weekend? Busy brain weekend!)

On Saturday night, Finn and his mom watched _Deadliest Catch_ together and played Jenga. He had proposed they bond a little that night, but his ulterior motive was to get some advice.

He had no idea how to approach the topic of Rachel. He didn't want to ask her what she thought about Rachel or about what Rachel did to him. As mad as he was at Rachel, Finn didn't want to hear his mother say bad things about her. Luckily, before he had to think of the perfect approach, his mother breached the topic for him:

"Kurt tells me you and Quinn are dating again? That you're using her for a rebound and she is, too?"

"Huh," he said, as if this were new information to him. He stared at the little wooden block in his hand.

"Kurt was very protective of Quinn, but, honey, you dating her again makes me wary."

"We're not having sex, if that's what you mean,"

"Finn, I'm not worried about another pregnancy. I'm worried about _you._ Finn, she .. well, she's not very _understanding_ of you. I don't want you to get hurt again."

"It's not really like that, Mom. We're just dating at school for show. We're trying to get more popular again."

"You didn't care about that when you were with Rachel."

"Mom, what does Rachel have to do with this?" he responded irritably. Though, he didn't know why it irritated him. Hadn't he wanted to talk about Rachel? He was so messed up ...

"Well, honey, you going to Quinn when it didn't seem you were even over Rachel seems like an attempt to escape making a decision."

"A decision? What does this have to do with a decision?" Finn asked, not liking where this was conversation was going. What decision did he have to make? Just _decide_ to stop breathing so he didn't get that pain in his chest when he was reminded of Rachel? Dull though it was now, it was still there.

"It's all a choice, honey. You clearly don 't _want_ to get over Rachel."

"She hurt me, Mom," he said quietly.

"I know, honey."

Finn took a moment. His eyebrow furrowed, deep in thought.

"If I took her back, wouldn't you, like, hate her?" he urged.

"Well, I'm not going to excuse what she did, Finn, but people do worse things-such as cheat repeatedly and lie all the time about it. Oh, but, honey, it's definitely serious, what she did. Listen, I don't want you to go _near _her if you think she'd do it again. But that's not what I'm trying to say. Finn, you need to choose. You need to choose to get over her, or you can choose to pick up where you left off with her. You gotta choose happiness. Do it for yourself, Finn. You know, in your heart, which you want."

"You mean, I've been _choosing_ to be miserable for almost two months?"

"Well, maybe not the whole time. But you've been avoiding the issue most of the time … You need to look inside yourself and think, Is she worth it?"

"Why are you so understanding about all this?" Finn was in awe. Maybe she was onto something.

"I can pretend I know who Rachel is all I want, but I really don't. At first, I was so mad at Rachel for what she did to you. I thought you would move on like you did with Quinn. But you didn't."

After a pause, she continued: "But then Burt told me how sweet and smart Rachel seemed to him when she slept over and how much Kurt loved her. Burt couldn't help but really like her, too. And, well, you know, when Burt gets excited about things, I can't help but get excited about them, too. He told me he thinks that, deep down, she has a heart of gold—'a diva with a heart of gold, just like our quarterback with the heart of gold,' those were his exact words. He said you and Rachel, you're still just kids. Just like Burt understood and still had hope for you after that disaster when you shared a room with Kurt, he thinks there's hope for her yet, too. And after a week of talking me to death about it, Burt has me inclined to believe him."

"Burt said I have a heart of gold?" Finn gaped.

Carole nodded then leaned from her seating at the ottoman they had pulled up to the living room coffee table and hugged her tall son.

"He loves you, honey." Finn breathed deep the moment, feeling his mother's small hands rub his back up and down. He closed his eyes. Then when they parted, he realized he felt lighter in spirit than he had in a long time. As if his mom had rubbed them out of him-burped him like he was a baby. She burped him of his troubles.

"It's a choice?" Finn wondered out loud.

"Yes. As Mama Bear, I'd like to tell you that you have every right to protect your heart, but that also means you need to make a decision: will you move on or will you try again?"

"I love you, Mom."

* * *

On Monday, he approached Quinn's locker to tell her he couldn't pretend-date her anymore. So, he supposed he was … fake-breaking up? As she approached her locker, he saw a group of four girls anxiously wave at her, and she smiled back. The pit of his stomach fell. He began to feel guilty as he stepped to her. He was going to make her upset about becoming invisible again. She would hate him.

And they'd _just _become friends.

"Quinn, I have to tell you something," Finn's words poured out of him against his will.

"Me, first," Quinn said, her eyes bright. "Sam and I made up. It was another huge scene at another party. I ran into him and Santana. Sam looked absolutely miserable with Santana, so I, a little intoxicated, took her by her hair and pulled her so that she literally flipped head over heels over the couch!"

Finn's eyes widened.

"Then everyone in the room started applauding," Quinn informed him, sounding giddy. "Girls were _cheering _for me. I think everyone had been waiting for someone to _floor_ She-Satan for a while… Then Sam and I kissed. A bunch of the girls kept yelling about how romantic it was! After the party died down, Sam and I talked. I apologized, told him we were a team, and I lost focus of that. I put too much pressure on him."

"Ya think?" Finn said, not even realizing he had really said it till he heard it. What was with all these involuntary words when he was with Quinn? He used to be so hesitant in speaking with her.

But that _was_ a year ago. So much had changed.

"I promised him I would be better," Quinn affirmed. "Besides, football season is over. Fresh start. So watch out, Hudson." She spoke playfully the last bit playfully.

"Well, that's a relief. Not much had changed. Azimio and Karofsky are still always on my tail, so I was actually gonna tell you it wasn't worth it for me."

"Friends, though?" Quinn said. God, the starstruck bubbly look she had in her eyes was almost scary. Was there something he didn't know that she knew?

"Sure," Finn tilted his chin up with a smirk to show solidarity. "Friends."

He strutted away to Biology through the heart-decorated hallway.

* * *

When Glee started up again that week, he was watching Rachel again (actually, did he ever stop?). Though this time, he didn't feel frozen by anger or choked by angst. She was chatting and giggling away with Mercedes and Tina. Was this new? Sure, she talked with everyone during Glee, but not like this. Not with these secret smiles and tactful pauses—and so much laughter!

Wait, no. Scratch that. It did make him miserable. Though, not in the way he thought it would. She looked so happy, and he just wished he could plop down beside her and laugh with her and her … _friends._ They got her infectiously energetic presence, and he didn't.

She was different. She didn't have as much of her normal cute/snobby commentary. She hardly spoke about herself.

Something good was happening. He was happy for her. He was. But.

But he just … Just what? He really had no idea. He was too chicken to approach her that week. She must think he's a heartless bastard for going back to kissing Quinn—and right in front of her!

That day, after he and Quinn had fake-dumped on another, Finn sat two chairs away from Rachel. He watched as she grinned and popped out of her chair when Mr. Schue announced Rachel had a song to sing to her Valentine, Rachel.

Finn was entranced. She sang a beautiful rendition of that sweet Katy Perry song he always liked but never told his guy friends he liked. It was super cheesy, but who wouldn't want to be told that they can spark and transcend who they are trapped into being? He sure as hell would like to be told that sometimes.

But the song was to her new friends. (Finn couldn't help but be jealous a little bit.) Kurt was on speaker phone, and Mercedes got most of Rachel's expressions. When the song ended, she looked at Mercedes with tear-filled eyes. Mercedes couldn't clap because she was holding a phone, bu Kurt's loud clapping through the phone more than made up for it.

When Glee ended, he approached Rachel, who was standing by the drum set with Mercedes, Tina, and Mike.

"Hey, Rach, can we talk?" he paused when he saw Rachel's eyes pop at his using her nickname. With a hug, Mercedes let them alone, followed by everyone else. They began to walk together, then they paused, just looking into one another's eyes.

He realized they had stopped at the piano, and the choir room wouldn't be empty for a while. Brad and Mr. Schue were still hanging around, putting away music. He continued to leave, motioning for her to follow.

Once they reached the bench beside the water fountain in the hallway, he sat down. She sat, too.

Her eyes were huge. They glistened as they looked up at him.

He had to think about breathing.

"Things have changed, haven't they?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rachel said in a surprisingly light voice.

"For the record, I knew you were cool way before they gave you the time of day," Finn muttered.

"I know. But I learned that I was pushing them away. I was _so insecure_, I assumed they didn't want anything to do with me. So, it was self-fulfilled prophecy, so to speak," Rachel explained.

"You're not changing who you are?"

"Well, I suppose a little. Mostly, it's just my mentality. My confidence and my … self-esteem. I'm less likely to overreact when one thing in my life goes wrong like …"

Finn knew she was going to say "like when you kissed Quinn at the game." He knew. He winced in anticipation.

But she moved on in the conversation.

"Well, I just think things have gotten more .. stable," she said with a shy smile.

"As long as you're not compromising who you are for them, okay. I-I'm happy for you, Rachel. And I need to tell you that Quinn and I.."

"Don't," she burst out quietly, then shook her head gently. "I mean, you don't have to explain things to me. It's my fault you're free to see her, after all."

"No, Rachel. We only pretended to date because we wanted to improve our reputations."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with your reputation?"

"I get ragged on by Azimio and Karofsky. They follow me in the hallway and make gay jokes, call Kurt my boyfriend. That kinda stuff …"

Then Rachel was crying. Sobbing, really. Finn almost jumped out of his socks when the site of her processed.

"Whoa, whoa. Are you … crying?"

"I'm sorry. It's just … Since .. Since Sectionals, you've always looked so sad, and I had no idea you had a bullying problem, too. I can't believe—I never could think that someone like me—a _nobody_ like me had such gravity in your life."

"How could you think that? Rachel … You were my—whole world. If your hamster or parrot or something died, I'd probably have been just as sad because it made you sad."

"I know that now. I'm so sorry, Finn. Truly. It hurts me to know I hurt you," she said as she sniffled and wiped away the last two tears.

"Believe it or not, Rachel, you have a family here at school, and we notice. Not just me. Everyone in that choir room. They all can be upset or happy by what you do. Believe it or not; they care."

"Oh, Finn, do I ever know that now. Mercedes set me straight. She's been so helpful-if not a little bit harsh, but I probably deserve it."

"I'm not so sure about that," Finn said while staring at her puffy, red eyes. Then he cleared his throat: "So are we okay, then? No more weird moments and avoiding one another?"

"We're cool," Rachel said, dropping the 'l' like Puck and Artie say. Then she reached out to fist-bump him. Her tiny knuckles brushed half of his, and then she tilted her head at him.

"Wait. What's wrong, Finn?" Rachel said as she did her adorable head-tilt.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't explode your fist-bump?" she inquired, flicking her eyes to his still-closed fist rested on his thigh.

"Oh. Quinn told me it was lame, and I needed to stop."

"Why on earth would you do that?" Rachel said loudly.

"'Cause it's not cool?" Finn answered, startled by her animosity.

"Finn, if it's what you do, and you still like it, it's cool. Don't let anyone, I don't care if it's your mother or Kurt or your girlfriend or your _faux_-girlfriend—don't let anyone try to change you, Finn Hudson! You say I shouldn't change. Well, you shouldn't either."

Then Finn was on her, pulled in by her tantalizing anger. (It was pretty hot!) He leaned over her, his letter man jacket engulfing her shoulders. He plastered his hands to the sides of her face. And he kissed her. His tongue plunged in straight away, and with a whimper, Rachel's tongue joined his. Then he pulled back, sucked, then took hungrily plowed his tongue again. For a few minutes, they did this, breaking up their panting kisses to suck loudly and quickly, like a pulse point. He realized he must be ridiculous because he kept making some kind of NOM sound when he pulled back, like he wanted to swallow her whole.

When he pulled her back to break from the kiss, he looked at her, unable to look away. A tear leaked from her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb.

"So, it's agreed. We're not changing. That means I'm still in love with you. That means I feel like I can-no, I _know_-that I can trust you with my heart," Finn declared gently.

"You believe that?"

"Yeah. And it's not 'cause you changed."

"No," she said slowly, playfully, shaking her head the limited amount she could move it while encased in Finn's hands.

"No. It's 'cause you're more yourself. More confident and with friends to be yourself with."

"And I'm not getting back with you because _you've_ changed, either."

"Wait. Do you have a right to say that?" he asked with a bemused, playful smirk.

"Parallelism, Finn," she said staunchly. "Anyway. As I was saying, I'm getting back with you, not because I know I will never overreact again, but because I'm a selfish girl, and I want everything. I may not deserve it-the friends, the talent, the bright future…. _you_. But I'll have it. I will."

"You know what? I take that back. I have changed. I can't promise not to freeze when things get tough, but I can promise to tell you you're more beautiful than Santana every day."

"Already such a liar!" Rachel teased as she brushed noses with him.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you to Boo (_shipper-swabbie_) for being my beta!

And thank you to everyone who has been reviewing! You all have me grinning like a fool! I don't deserve such wonderful praise. And such good, insightful readers.

THANK YOU!


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